


Challenge 2: Magic of Three

by dragonofslash



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofslash/pseuds/dragonofslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for Challenge Two: Magic of Three for the 2015 Summer Pornathon.</p><p>The voting form can be found <a href="http://goo.gl/forms/jXTzx8BD9w">here</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (Warnings)

**Author's Note:**

> TIME FOR MORE PORN
> 
> Pairings and warnings included in chapters 1-4.
> 
> Chapters 5-8 are repeats of chapters 1-4 without pairing and warning information.

**1.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None 

“King Arthur's time has come,” Skuld declared. “As we have foretold, so shall it be.” 

Her golden scissors at the ready, she reached out to pull the young king's life-thread from the complex web of human life.

There were three of them there by the well. Urðr had the past as her domain, Verðandi the present, and Skuld that which was yet to be. They were the Norns of fate, and together they ruled the destinies of both gods and men, - they spun and cut every life's thread.

Skuld studied the thread in her hand. Twined from crimson and golden strands, it was perfectly strong and even. 

“This is strange,” she said. “Didn't we foretell troubles and dangers for the young prince all his adult life? Why is his thread without snarls and knots?”

Urðr shrugged. “It's Emrys's doing. His protective magic frequently defeats the tangles of fate.”

“Oh.”

All three of them glanced at the steely-blue thread that dangled separately from above. With no beginning and no end, Merlin's life-thread could not be cut by any means they possessed. It made them uncomfortable. 

“Well,” Verðandi said briskly. “No time like the present. Do what you have to do, sister.”

Skuld raised her scissors, while Verðandi leaned over to breathe on the calm surface of the water in the well of life. An image appeared. It was the king of Camelot, at this very moment dying in Merlin's arms on the shore of Lake Avalon. The shard from the sword forged in dragon-fire had reached Arthur's heart. 

“Wait,” Urðr said. “The death of a king is a grave matter. Let us honour his life and achievements before cutting the thread.”

The Norns all turned their attention to the well, their faces impassive. Glimpses of Arthur's life started appearing. They saw him overcoming many dangers and foes, always with Merlin at his side. Again and again the two men looked into each other's eyes with love and longing, sharing private, intimate smiles.

“So King Arthur and Emrys are lovers?” Verðandi mused. “Was this foretold?”

“No, and no,” Skuld replied, a hint of regret in her voice. “Although they are deeply in love, neither has admitted as much to the other.”

“Pity,” Urðr sighed. “Imagine the scenes the well might have shown us....”

Skuld arched an eyebrow at her. “Let's not just imagine, sister. Let's rather watch how such an alternate fate would play out.”

She gestured at the water, muttering a brief incantation.

The well's image changed. 

There was flaring dragon-fire as Kilgharrah breathed healing magic across King Arthur, dissolving the metal shard piercing his heart. Merlin's face showed immense joy at the realization that Arthur had been saved. Both Merlin and Arthur looked stunned with disbelief, but then they were embracing, tumbling back on the grass and kissing passionately under the rising sun. Soon they had shed all their clothes, and the three sisters witnessed true love, freely expressed through the joining of two young, healthy bodies.

The images jumped ahead, one deliciously scorching scene following the next, all of them glimpses of a future that would never be, because the Norns had not foretold it.

Arthur was on his back in bed, Merlin riding him with abandon, throwing his head back as his seed spurted across Arthur's chest. Their expressions made the sisters gasp.

Then Arthur was on all fours on a forest floor, Merlin pushing into him, both of them laughing as a unicorn trotted by.

Next, Arthur was naked, stretched out on a stone altar, his erection pointing defiantly skywards. A Merlin covered in nothing but the blue swirls of druidic tattoos prepared to blow him, lips parting hungrily. 

Urðr discreetly mopped her brow. Verðandi fidgeted and fanned her face.

Skuld cleared her throat. “Is it possible that we didn't... take all aspects into consideration when foretelling King Arthur's fate?” 

“I think so!” Urðr squeaked.

“None of us are infallible!” Verðandi yelped. At the offended glares from her sisters, she added; “It's that Emrys! His magic distorts the prophecies. He's always been beyond our control!”

“Good thinking, sister,” Skuld said with approval, letting go of Arthur's still-intact life thread and pocketing her unused pair of scissors. “You're right. I hereby foretell that these visions show the real fate of King Arthur. And it's all Emrys's fault.”

The steely-blue and the golden-red threads immediately started twining together; - becoming one, unbreakable and eternal.

And the Norns turned back eagerly to continue their study of the king's new fate.

* * *

**2.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin, Merlin/Mordred  
**Warnings:** No character death actually happens during the fic but it is a major theme. This is pretty much a happiness vacuum.

 _I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought; but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones._ ~ Albert Einstein.

The war that Hollywood and the media had long predicted but very few had truly believed would happen had come. The world was plunged into destruction with no sign of an end. Those that had survived the initial bombs fought on for what little was left.

Merlin was on watch, his rifle held loosely has he scanned the torn up landscape for any sign of movement. His partner was shaking next to him, clutching his own weapon in a death grip.

He was young, not much passed 18 but now deemed old enough to fight. He was terrified but Merlin had no words of comfort. Everything he had loved had been torn away by this war, unspeakable horrors chipping away at him until there was nothing left.

His partner’s breath hitched and Merlin glanced over.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s alright.” Merlin answered even though they both knew it was far from the truth.

“It’s my first watch.” His voice shook and in the moonlight Merlin could see tears drying on his cheeks. 

Merlin wanted to tell him of a better future, one without pain and the constant threat of attack, but couldn’t find the words. “It get’s easier.” 

“I didn’t want to – before – .” He trailed off, still unable to voice his fear of death. “Do you have someone? Special, I mean.” 

“I did.” 

“What happened to them?” 

It had been years before Merlin had given up hope. He’d travelled from camp to camp in search of proof, information, anything. But with every place he reached with no sign of Arthur, the hope had waned a little further. Eventually he’d had to accept the inevitable. “They died.”

His companion fell silent. Merlin’s gaze drew back to focus on the horizon but his thoughts went back to a time before the war. Back to their first weekend away together. 

The plan had been to go hiking, but instead Arthur had pinned his hips to the kitchen table and sucked him off for hours. Merlin had dissolved into a string of moans and pleads to be allowed to come right the fuck now, but Arthur would just take him to the edge and pull back before he was able to find a release. By the time Arthur finally gave in and fucked him, Merlin thought he was going to explode. Arthur had looked smug about that one for _months_. The memory gave Merlin a pang of heartbreak that he didn’t know he could still feel.

As the hours drew on, his companion inched slowly closer. Merlin remembered feeling the way he did, but the years of fighting had caused him to grow so tired that he no longer feared death. Sometimes, Merlin felt that he was just waiting for his time to come.

They were relieved just before dawn. His partner didn’t release his grip on his rifle until they were back inside. Merlin wanted to hope that there would be peace before this war destroyed him too. As it was, there was one thing that Merlin could offer. He put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Mordred.”

“You’ve never been with anyone?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred shook his head.

“Come with me.” Merlin led them back to his bunk. 

Merlin braced himself against the wall as Mordred sank into him with a groan. When Mordred started to move, Merlin closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sensation. The war may have broken his emotions but at least he could find still find physical pleasure and try to forget, if only for a moment. 

He came with Arthur’s name on his lips, in a memory of a better time. He helped clean them both up and then watched as Mordred drifted off, his face calm in sleep. It wasn’t much, but Merlin had offered the boy something. He could only hope that the world would offer more before there was nothing left worth fighting for.

* * *

**3.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Will, Merlin/Freya  
**Warning(s):** \--  
**Title** : Air, Water, Earth

The thing about Will was, he was always in motion. You couldn't pin him down.

They were best friends from the time they could walk, and Merlin always knew that Will had his back. If the other boys in Ealdor tried to gang up on Merlin, Will was there with his hot temper and ready fists to defend him.

His moods were as changeable as the wind, sometimes coming up as fierce as a summer windstorm, sometimes as sweet and balmy as a spring breeze.

Since they were constant companions, it was natural that they would explore their bodies together, lying in the sweetgrass meadow, learning what kinds of touches felt good.

And when one night they went from mutual masturbation to hand jobs and finally blow jobs, it was natural that Will got cold feet about what they were doing.

He danced away like a zephyr.

~O~

Merlin had never tasted anything sweeter than the first kiss he got from Freya.

She seemed pure and ethereal, like the water nymphs in the bedtime stories his mother had told him. She needed him, and more importantly she trusted him.

He wooed her with simple magic tricks and a dress he stole from Morgana. It meant the world to him to be able to make her smile. Her life had been so hard, and for a few hours he had given her hope.

He hadn't intended to make love to her; he had simply gathered her in his arms to give her comfort. But she pulled down the bodice of the silky dress with no self-consciousness, exposing her small pretty breasts, and he kissed her again to reward her for her bravery, and one thing led to another.

There was a little blood but no tears when he pushed inside her.

The tears came from him, when he had to return his nymph to a home in the deep water of the Llyn Llydaw. 

~O~

When he had Arthur spread-eagled on his belly, his plump arse in the air and his thumbs pressing on either side of his pink little hole. Merlin often made him wait for the first lick.

Partly because he enjoyed watching his lover squirm, and partly because he got harder thinking about how Arthur would taste. 

Arthur wouldn't let Merlin rim him unless he had soaked in the tub and scrubbed carefully over that most hidden part. But he still tasted of Camelot, a slight tang of loamy earth under the taste of lavender - infused soap.

The first time Arthur had fucked him, when just the two of them were on a hunting trip in the autumn, it had started with boyish wrestling and ended with Merlin underneath Arthur with his trousers and small clothes shoved halfway down his thighs. 

He hadn’t had much room to move, and after Arthur had roughly loosened him up, he found himself clutching at fallen leaves with his hands as his bottom got thoroughly reamed. When Arthur collapsed on top of him, he found his weight warm and reassuring.

It made him feel safe, and loved.

The scent of rotting leaves and dry earth filled his nostrils, and he remembered that Arthur’s grandfather had had to claim the soil of Camelot inch by precarious inch.

Arthur was grounded in the earth of Camelot. He knew every square foot of his kingdom.

He would die to protect it.

And Merlin would die to protect his King.

* * *

**4.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Voyeurism, repression

The first time Arthur went, he didn’t even get out of his car.

The location was suspicious – just outside of town off one of those exits that line the outer edges of the city that lead out to nowhere. Just the type of location one would expect illegal activities to go down.

The only reason he had decided to take the chance was because he had heard about it from two completely unrelated sources.

And Lord Almighty, was he glad he did.

The turnout was fairly large for this sort of ordeal, and despite it taking place late at night, the full moon gave off enough light to provide quite the show.

All car engines were off, with some men in their vehicles and others out. A few stood off on their own, trousers open with no shame as they polished themselves off watching others. Most of the men were paired up, some wanking side-by-side, others on their knees, eagerly sucking someone down like they had been starving for it. Which, considering where they were, probably stood true.

Arthur got off twice, gathered up his balled up tissues to dispose of later, and drove off, glad that he had, at long last, gotten that out of his system.

The second time Arthur went, he opened up his car door, reclined his seat, and listened to the slap on slap of skin and the soft groans that echoed through the trees.

It wasn’t long before someone took his open door as an invitation and leaned in, replacing his hand with their mouth, teasing him until he was writhing in his seat and gritting his teeth against the noises that were emerging from his throat against his will. Arthur had no idea if it felt this way because he was so repressed or because the guy was just that good.

If he kept his eyes closed, Arthur figured he could at least pretend he was about to cum down a woman’s throat, except the hand palming his balls was too large and the fingers reaching down towards his entrance were too long and rough.

He tried to give some warning that he was about to blow his load, but the response he received was a hissed out, “Yessss” before the man abruptly deep-throated him.

Arthur’s orgasm left him seeing stars.

The third time he went was during the day.

It had been several months since the last time and he had sworn to himself he would never go back again. He had an important life to lead and he couldn’t keep risking it because someone was bound to recognize him sooner or later and yes, there was that unspoken understanding of secrecy, but his was a scandal just waiting to happen.

But right now…right now, it was the only place he could think of escaping to where he could clear his head for a moment before dealing with the world once more.

Surprisingly, the place wasn’t as abandoned as he had expected. There was one bloke leaning against a tree, casually palming himself through his jeans. 

He stopped when Arthur’s car pulled over, but when Arthur made it clear he had no intention of getting out, the man continued on with his business and Arthur proceeded to zone out.

Thirty minutes later had Arthur nearly jumping out of his seat when there was a knock on his window.

“You alright there, mate?” The man continued as soon as the tinted window was rolled down a crack. “It’s just, I was done nearly twenty minutes ago and you haven’t left.”

“Rough day.” Arthur cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I didn’t actually come here to…”

“It’s fine, I get it.” The car lurched a bit as the man turned to lean back against it. “You don’t have to explain yourself here.”

Arthur nodded but didn’t verbally respond.

“Look, I get that it might be hard for someone like you to come out to these meetings—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur snapped in panic. 

The man was silent for a moment. 

“I was the one who blew you last time. I never saw your face,” he quickly reassured, “but I recognized the car.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. He had even made it a point to choose the most nondescript car from the garage!

“This is pretty forward, but if you ever need to escape again, swing by the mechanic’s station first? Ask for Merlin. And please don’t fire me.”

And with that, the man was off, not even bothering to wait for his response.

* * *

**5.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwaine/Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Double-penetration, Light Bondage

It takes three fingers constantly tapping against Merlin’s prostate to turn him into a sobbing, begging mess.

“Please,” Merlin pants, breath hot against Gwaine’s thighs. The blush is high on his fuckable cheekbones. “More,” he pleads, lapping at the rigid flesh of Gwaine’s cock, stiff and hot through his trousers. Precome and saliva soak the cloth and Merlin sucks on it harder.

Hands tied behind his back by his own neckerchief, Merlin can’t do anything but take whatever’s been given to him.

“ _Fuc_ -Oh gods.” Gwaine can’t even say a proper sentence, breath being taken away by how well Merlin can suck cock. He has to brush his hair away from his face so he can better see those wet lips and pink tongue. Mind so hazed with pleasure, Gwaine can barely control his fingers, with a clumsiness that’s unbecoming of a knight, he undoes the laces to his pants. 

Merlin’s breath hitches, blinking in surprised when Gwaine’s cock fall free from the folds of fabric to tap against his cheek, leaving a dribble of milky precome. “More,” Merlin says again, bucking against the fingers fucking him. He takes the head of Gwaine’s cock in his mouth, sucking and licking with his tongue until saliva runs down his chin. 

“Not yet, _Merlin_.” Arthur sucks on the soft swell of Merlin’s bottom, hard enough that a purpling bruise will be visible later on. “What have I said about being patient?” he scolds, stretching Merlin’s hole, watching as the muscle of flesh tightens and flexes around his moving fingers. “If you aren’t good, then I won’t give you anything at all.” 

Merlin whimpers, cock dribbling onto the red bedsheets as his hips hitch at the chiding. He gets off on this, being chided and praised. 

“Don’t listen to the princess, you’re doing such a good job, sweetheart.” Gwaine rolls his eyes, grins as he cards his fingers through Merlin’s hair, pulling him closer until the tip of his cock is in the back of Merlin’s throat. 

Merlin _keens,_ lets out this needy little noise, spreads his legs wider, and wriggles his little bottom like the little harlot he is. 

Arthur spanks him with a ‘tsk’ and Merlin yelps, the sound going straight to Gwaine’s cock.

Snorting in a fond amusement, Arthur resumes licking at Merlin’s hole, lapping at the rim, switching between fucking Merlin with his fingers and tongue. It has Merlin babbling and whining despite having a cock down his throat. 

“ _Arthur,_ ” Gwaine grunts out, sounding close to his orgasm. _“Just fuck him already.”_

“I’m King. I don’t take orders from anyone,” says Arthur haughtily, but he pulls his fingers free, and lines his aching cock to Merlin’s opening. He taps the head of his cock against the rim, drags it along the pleats of slickened flesh. 

Merlin’s hole flutters open and clenches closed. The sight is obscene, but it has Arthur cock dribbling and his balls twinge in pleasure. He slides in so easily, a smooth, long drag, cock reddened and hot against Merlin’s pale flesh. “Merlin,” Arthur grits out, hands coming to grip at the tiny dip of Merlin’s waist. He pulls out, and thrusts back in, groans at the filthy wet squelch. He does it again, fucks Merlin deeper on to Gwaine’s cock. 

There’s a muffled, _“Uhn,”_ as Merlin comes from the mere sensation of being so well stuffed with cock. He shivers, getting the sheets filthy with his spend before going lax and boneless. 

Gwaine’s fucking Merlin’s head with abandon, thrusting into that hot mouth, rubbing his balls against those blowjob lips. When he comes, he grips Merlin’s hair with both hands, tosses his head back, lovely hair fluttering as he spills into Merlin’s mouth with a filthy moan. 

It’s Arthur that comes last, he’s King, and therefore has to last the longest. That’s when Arthur really fucks into him, does so with a ruthlessness that will lead to bruises. He fucks those lovely stuttering _“ah, ah, ah”_ noises out of Merlin. 

He comes with a grunt, spills himself into that tight channel and continues to fuck Merlin a couple more times until it becomes too much and he pulls out, falling next to Merlin and Gwaine in a satisfied heap. 

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, wriggling his still bound fingers. His voice is soft, throat raw from the fucking. “Gwaine.” 

“Sorry, love,” says Gwaine somewhat sheepishly as he frees Merlin. It’s Gwaine that scoops Merlin and Arthur into an embrace as they fall into a sex-sated slumber.

* * *

**6.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** none

_The first time we met, we hated each other._

''You mind moving over, mate? Your ears are blocking the way.''

Merlin turns and comes face to face with the most gorgeous arsehole he's ever met. Figures. It's just that kind of a party. To add insult to injury, the idiot is grinning at Merlin, inviting him in on the joke, probably thinking it's hilarious.

''Funny,'' Merlin sneers. ''Here I thought it was your exaggerated self-importance you couldn't get past.''

He stomps off, deciding the only way to survive this is by getting spectacularly drunk.

Merlin has no idea how he ends up in a bedroom, rolling around in a pile of cloaks with that same arsehole, their shirts pushed up and their trousers open, rutting their cotton-clad erections against each other, their panting breaths mingling hot and damp between them. He pulls at the bloke’s hair and moans when strong fingers press bruises into his hip before wrapping around his length. When Merlin spurts into his pants, for a moment, everything is glorious.

Then the door opens and a woman's voice asks, ''Arthur? What's happening in here?''

Arthur looks up, fingers still sticky with Merlin's cum, and stutters, ''I... uh... helped him find his car keys.''

Merlin chalks it up to one of those experiences that make you want to stick your head into the toilet bowl the next morning and just forget it ever happened.

_You didn't hate me, I hated you. The second time we met, you didn't even remember me._

The club is one of Merlin's favourites, perfect for cruising, and he already has his sights on the blond grinding his way across the dance floor. His hair is glinting in the flashing lights and, god, that arse in the black leather trousers has Merlin hard already.

It's not until they're under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom that Merlin realises why the man seemed so familiar.

Arthur looks different with his hair spiked up and a hint of kohl around his eyes, but it's definitely him. Merlin doesn't say anything, just pushes Arthur down and opens his pants, watches him take Merlin's fat cock into his mouth and suck him like a pro.

He bends over and holds onto the sink, while Arthur licks him open and then fucks him from behind with hard, forceful thrusts, holding Merlin's eyes in the mirror without ever saying a word.

Merlin goes home with Arthur's cum dripping from his hole, thinking that it's true that you always meet twice.

_I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends._

Merlin nearly drops the wine bottle when he catches sight of Arthur at Gwen's dinner party. He's talking to her new girlfriend, handsome in a light blue shirt.

When Merlin finds him on the veranda later, Arthur gives him an amused look.

''Your date seems to like my date.''

''Oh.'' Merlin blushes. ''Boyfriend, actually. Sorry. Cenred is a bit of a flirt.''

Arthur shrugs. ''Me and Elena are just friends. She only moved here last month. Thought I'd introduce her to some people.''

''That's nice of you.''

''I'm generally a nice guy. You should see me saving kittens and helping old ladies across the street.''

Arthur grins at him, and Merlin blinks, surprised how infectious it is. He realises that he's never seen Arthur smile before. They stay out there talking until a rather disgruntled Cenred comes looking for Merlin.

_We were friends for a very long time._

''Merlin? What's wrong?''

''I kicked him out.''

Arthur curses and then strong arms wrap around Merlin, his nose pressed against Arthur's chest, smearing snot and tears all over his favourite shirt.

''He said if he ever had kids, he'd rather adopt than risk them having my ears.''

''That fucker never deserved you,'' Arthur mutters into his hair. ''I wanted to break his fingers, every time I saw him touch you.''

The kiss doesn't exactly come as a surprise, but Merlin didn't expect Arthur's gentleness. He undresses him, paints Merlin's whole skin with his lips and fingers, and when he hesitates, Merlin takes his hand and presses a kiss into his palm. This is it. He knows.

Arthur spreads Merlin's legs and hoists up his hips, and then he's moving inside him and it's better, so much better than anything ever was.

''I love your ears.'' Arthur whispers when they lie curled together later. ''They are adorable.''

''You once said they blocked your way.''

''They did. And I haven't really managed to move on, ever since.''

_And then we fell in love._

* * *

**7.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Only sexual frustration

_**Time The First** _

“Merlin!”

Said man turned around with a frown that quickly dissolved into a smile when he saw his lover. “Arthur.” He grinned before raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing in an alcove?”

“Get in here and find out.” Arthur said cheekily, pulling Merlin into the dark. Merlin couldn’t help but laugh as he was pulled against the other man, pressing an easy kiss to his lips, only to gasp as he felt a hand sneak down his trousers.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, only to hear Arthur’s soft chuckles in return.

“Come on, Merlin. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He murmured, leaning forward to nip at his lover’s jaw, making Merlin squirm as he started to work him over, his thumb sweeping over the head of the other man’s cock.

Merlin let out a soft groan, biting his lip to muffle himself in case someone else heard them. Arthur kept stroking him, getting him closer and closer to the edge – 

“Has anyone seen Arthur?”

Nothing ruined a scandalous castle romp faster than hearing your partner’s father right outside your illicit hiding place.

_**Time The Second** _

“Where are you taking me?” Arthur whispered in the darkness, Merlin tugging him by the hand with a giggle. They’d joined the knights at the Rising Sun and had therefore both had a little to drink. Not enough to be completely hopeless, but definitely enough to loosen them up a fair bit.

“Shh – you have to be quiet.” Merlin smiled. He led the way to the castle stables, hushing the horses before closing himself and Arthur inside the tack room. That bit of privacy was all it took.

Arthur wasted no time in pressing Merlin against the wall, one hand roaming up the back of his shirt to feel the warmth of his lover’s skin as their lips met in a half desperate kiss.

“Want to suck you.” Merlin whined, even as he tangled his fingers in Arthur’s hair. The blond moaned his approval, nodding as he shifted his hands down to unlace his own trousers.

“Gods, Merlin – do it.”

Merlin didn’t waste any more time. He got to his knees, pulling Arthur’s cock out reverently before sucking delicately on the head, enjoying how it made his lover tremble. Arthur’s hands had migrated to his hair, guiding him gently as he took more of his lover in – 

“Did you hear that?”

Both Merlin and Arthur tensed at the voice outside the door. There was the whinny of a horse, a thud, more footsteps…

“She’s foaling!”

In the chaos of the stable boys helping the mare give birth, the two lovers managed to edge their way out of the stables and back to the castle. Even if it was with a bit of a limp.

**_Time The Third_ **

“Nobody’s going to bother us out here.” Arthur said smugly, floating on his back in the river. Merlin grinned from the grassy banks, soaking up the sun with his feet in the water. They were both gloriously nude and completely relaxed, far away from anyone and anything.

“Does that mean you have something in mind?” Merlin asked with a grin, his gaze darkening as Arthur made his way towards him, spreading his legs invitingly.

Arthur rested between his lover’s legs, chest to chest with him as he joined their lips, their movements slow and unhurried for once. Merlin let out a shaky breath as Arthur diverted his attention to his lover’s neck, carrying on down his chest, sucking briefly at his nipple as he made his way further down. He drew Merlin’s legs apart, lowering his head – 

“Oi, I found them!”

Merlin yelped, diving for his clothes to cover himself as Gwaine appeared over the hill, following by the rest of their closest knights.

“We saw you two sneak off! Told you they’d be at the river, Elyan.” He rogue crowed. Elyan just rolled his eyes, carrying a basket of food under one arm. Only Leon looked slightly sheepish, giving Merlin and Arthur a shrug. 

The two lovers just looked at each other for a minute before sighing. Next time they’d just lock the door to Arthur’s chambers.

* * *

**8.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** none

After three weeks apart, they only smile at each other in the reception area, and stand close enough to feel each other's warmth while they sign the release papers. Arthur's his usual charming, professional self with the staff. At his prompting, Merlin agrees this clinic is top-notch, more comfortable than many hotels he's known.

In the dark quiet of the parking garage Arthur reaches across the front seat and they kiss – slow, hungry, restrained.

" _Zero_ side effects," Arthur says, like he still can't believe it.

"Not unless they found something in the tests and didn't tell me about it."

(That was Mordred's theory: that the new regimen cut out the obvious, painful side effects but would kill them slowly, perhaps untraceably.

"They'll never kill us off," Sophia scoffed. "Where would Pendragon make their millions if they didn't have a dangerous population to keep in line?")

"Haven't had a headache since the second day," Merlin adds. 

"That's fantastic." Arthur kisses him again. "And the withdrawal was..."

 _Fantastic._ "It was fine, Arthur. Come on, I assume you've been reading the reports, and you know I wouldn't lie, so –"

"So let's get home, I'm sorry. Just... I'm really glad you're okay."

"I know."

***

"I missed you," Merlin says when they're at home, stripping as fast as they can between reaching for each other. "I thought about you the whole time."

"Did you touch yourself?" says Arthur, palming Merlin's cock through his boxers.

"Yeah." Especially that second week, while they kept him in secure isolation and waited for all the Albiax to work its way out of his system. "Haven't jerked off so much since I was a teenager," which was the last time he went completely off meds. 

"Show me."

Merlin grins. "I'd kneel on the bed, like this, and imagine having you with me, like this." He turns Arthur around and pushes him down to his hands and knees.

In the clinic Merlin sent magic to twist around his imaginary Arthur's wrists and ankles, to pull his knees apart while Merlin worked his ass open the old-fashioned way, with fingers and energy and spit.

Today he uses the packet of lube Arthur hands him. Arthur holds his position willingly, easily, and Merlin tries not to think of how much better it would be with magic, of how fucking alive he felt when he had it back, how unfair it is that he can't have both. He's got Arthur, with his incredible devotion and his tight, perfect hole and his surprised little moans every time Merlin thrusts into him. That ought to be enough, but Merlin can't help reaching for more. He doesn't vocalize but his mouth shapes the words to surround them with light, and he knows his eyes stay blue but he lets them lose focus and pictures infinity. He grips Arthur's chest and bites Arthur's shoulder and comes in Arthur's ass, pretending they're in another life.

After Merlin pulls out Arthur lies back and starts to stroke his own cock. Tired and disappointed in ways he'll never express, Merlin simply closes his hand around Arthur's and follows along. 

"I love it when you fuck me," Arthur chokes out. "I love having you back. I love you." 

"I love you," Merlin answers, honestly, and Arthur comes, messy and open and sweet, like a boy Merlin wants to protect from the world.

***

They're drifting toward sleep when the timer goes off. Merlin goes to the bathroom and takes the Thursday afternoon pill out of the custom red and yellow plastic organizer. (It's really not that hard to keep track. People who miss doses have other reasons.)

He can hear Arthur talking on the phone in the living room.

"...I know Gaius thinks three pills in a day is a lot. But I'm telling you, once word gets around that they can live without headaches or nausea or sexual dysfunction, _and_ still follow the law, people are gonna be begging their docs for the new scrip. Compliance is gonna soar, Dad. And as soon as we get it in place as the default medication for the mandate..."

Merlin swallows and, out of habit, sticks out his tongue, though there's only the mirror to observe. Yes, sir. Model patient and citizen, compliant with the government mandate. 

Three pills and zero side effects. They've only taken away what makes him whole.

* * *

**9.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin solo, Merlin/Arthur  
**Warning(s):**

_Daddy was going to be so proud of him._

Merlin shifted his weight forward, resting his forehead against the faucet and spreading his legs wider. His knees ached from grinding into the hard enamel of the bathtub and the sensation sent tiny zings of pleasure down his spine every time he moved his hips. Rocking his hips back and forth, Merlin reveled in the slow drag of his own fingers in and out of his hole. No lube yet and the burn was almost enough to make him weep. But he loved it that way.

Forcing a third finger into his hole, Merlin shut his eyes and basked in the inevitability of things. Merlin had been fucking himself just like this for years. Filling his arse with every reasonable thing that he could lay his hands on and even a few unreasonable things. His side table was a jungle of butt plugs and dildos in an array of shapes and sizes, leftover from every time he graduated to something better. These days, Merlin preferred steel. The cool slide and heavy weight of the metal almost settled something deep inside him. Almost.

When they’d first started fucking, before Arthur was ‘Daddy’ and Merlin was still an unowned hole desperately trying to fill itself, Arthur would joke that slipping Merlin’s favorite steel plug into his arse was the easiest way to shut him up. It got to the point that whenever Merlin would come home from the lab, pissy and frustrated by some inept intern’s fuck up, all Merlin would have to do is slide in his favorite plug and he’d calm down enough to talk things out with Arthur. That’s where all of this started, with another stressful day in the lab, frantic texts to Arthur about the potential ruination of the project Merlin had been working so hard on, and Arthur waiting at the door to send Merlin to their room.

_”Go get your pacifier.”_

His hole clenching at the memory, Merlin shifted his weight even further forward, resting his face on the floor of the bathtub and raising his arse high in the air. His back arched painfully and the sides of the tubbing stopping him from spreading his legs any wider, Merlin scrabbled around the edge of the tub with his free hand until he found the bottle of lube and his new plug. 

_His plug._

Merlin still doesn’t understand why he obeyed Arthur that night; he was pissed off, just wanted to be left alone, and by all rights should have told Arthur to go fuck himself. But he didn’t. Something in the first set of Arthur’s mouth and the softness of his eyes told Merlin to listen and he did. That night, Arthur had spread Merlin open face down on their bed while working that plug into his arse, watching the tension melt out of Merlin muscles and whispering to him about how much Arthur loved him and hated to see him so overwhelmed. Arthur had worked Merlin over with the plug for what felt like hours, until Merlin sobbed openly, his disappointment and frustration pouring out alongside the pleasure. Arthur had shushed and soothed him then, removing the plug and fucking Merlin in deep hard strokes, calling Merlin his ‘good boy’ as he brought them both to orgasm. 

That was when things shifted. Arthur became Daddy and Merlin was his good boy and somehow they’d ended up here. With Merlin face down in the bathtub, stretching his hole to accommodate the plug that Daddy had left next to his pillow that morning. Daddy had left a note saying he was out running errands and would be home by 3. 

The plug was beautiful. Stainless steel, solid, heavy, and perfect. He’d spent a full hour just staring, marveling at it. And it was _his_. He was Daddy’s good boy and Daddy had the base of the plug engraved to say just that. 

Slipping his fingers out of his hole, Merlin spread lube over the rise of the plug. Reaching back to spread his cheeks, he worked the plug into his hole, pushing past the burn until it came to rest inside him. His hole fluttered and clenched and Merlin sighed, pressing a kiss to the floor of the bathtub, so content that he couldn’t think of anything else to do. 

That’s how Daddy found him. Face down in the tub. Grinning, waiting, plugged. Finally owned.

* * *

**10.**

**Pairing:** Gwen/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

“She’ll come in when she’s ready,” Gwen says, scratching lightly at Merlin’s scalp, standing behind him and leaning her hips against his shoulders. He’s been sitting in the chair overlooking the garden all morning, watching the cat stalk sparrows, eat grass, and roll around in patches of sunlight.

Merlin makes an impatient noise and takes a sip of his tea, and Gwen tightens her fingers in his hair, pulls a bit. She feels him relax into the touch, so she leans in close, runs her lips over the shell of his ear, says, “Put the tea down. Take off your clothes. Get in the bed. Wait for me.”

Gwen opens the garden door before going to meet Merlin.

***

He’s so fucking perfect like this, on his knees in the bed, fingers splayed against the wall, lips bitten puffy. Gwen’s got three fingers inside him, and he’s greedy for more, groaning and fucking back on her hand.

“You want me to fuck you?” she says, sliding her cock over his arse, smearing lube all over and making a gorgeous mess of him.

“Please,” Merlin says, spreads his legs wider.

“Are you my good little cockslut?”

“Yes, only yours,” Merlin says, and when he looks over his shoulder at her, his eyes are wet with tears. Gwen shushes him, leans forward and presses a tender kiss to his mouth, which still tastes like her cunt. Her pussy clenches at the memory of grinding against his chin, her orgasm bright like lightning.

“I’ll take care of you, love,” Gwen whispers, pulling her fingers out of him and lining up her cock. She slides into him slowly, loving how open and pleased he looks as she fills him. The plug vibrating in her pussy shifts and pulses when she thrusts, her motions fucking her and Merlin both.

When Gwen is sunk all the way in, she presses her breasts to Merlin’s back and winds her arms around him, fingers playing at his nipples and navel, skirting around his cock. She kisses his neck and shoulders, so full of adoration for him, for how good and patient he’s being. Her second orgasm comes over her slowly; she’s so lost in the feeling of their wet skin sliding together, the smell of his hair, the sounds he makes as she fucks him.

“So good, darling,” Gwen says. “So pretty and perfect. Do you want to make me come again?”

“God, yes,” Merlin moans, and Gwen pulls out of him just long enough to take off the harness, detaching the cock and shoving it back into him as quickly as possible.

“On your back,” Gwen says, and Merlin obeys, cock beautiful where it rests red and sticky against his belly. She climbs his body, rubs his cockhead up and down her slit. “You feel how wet I am for you? How much I want you inside me?”

“Fuck,” Merlin says, face, ears, and chest flushed. His mouth falls open as she lowers onto him.

Gwen isn’t shy about riding him; she grinds her clit against his abdomen and clutches his cock inside her, so close, so close, _so fucking close_. She stuffs two fingers into Merlin’s mouth, and it’s the feel of his tongue fucking between them that pushes her over the edge, coming long and hard around Merlin’s cock. The third orgasm is always the best, when she’s so fucked-out and exhausted that it lasts and lasts.

She collapses on the bed next to Merlin, legs shaking, and grabs Merlin’s hip, guiding him up to straddle her face and fuck into her mouth. She plays with the toy in his arse as he swivels his cock between her lips. Gwen hums her approval and looks up into Merlin’s face: he’s got his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes are squinted shut.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Merlin says, voice rough.

Gwen pulls her mouth off his cock and takes it in her hand, tugging roughly, and says, “Come on my tits.”

Merlin’s hips twitch and his cock pulses, coating her chin, neck, and chest in come. The sounds he makes are perfection, and Gwen slowly removes the toy from his arse, earning a few more hard jerks from his cock.

She wraps her arms around him tight, pets his hair, kisses his face, and Merlin hums against her. “So good,” she says. “So lovely.”

***

When they get out of the shower, the cat is curled up on the foot of the bed, dozing happily.

* * *

**11.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** implied infidelity, major character death

"I don't think it matters which one we get on - they're all going to the same place," says Merlin reading the train times.

"Alright," Arthur agrees.

***

"Hurry up love. They already know what you look like, no sense trying to impress them now."

"Arthur, I'm not giving your father the satisfaction of showing up with my tie being done in the wrong knot."

"Who cares? No one is going to be looking at you anyway."

"Your father will."

"Mother will keep him off you. She's not going to let anyone spoil Morgana's day."

"I suppose that's true." Merlin leans against the door frame, tie in hand. "Can you help me with this? The stupid thing just won't cooperate."

"I can think of something better to do with that." Arthur waggles his eyebrows.

"Oh sod off," Merlin scoffs. "Wait, you're serious?"

Arthur shrugs nonchalantly and moves to stand behind Merlin.

"Right, but it's on your head if your father throws a tantrum ruins the wedding because we're late."

"We wouldn't be that late," Arthur purrs, grinding gently against his backside.

He takes the tie in both hands and caresses Merlin's neck, making him shiver.

"Fine. But blindfolds only. Last time it took twenty minutes to get the knots untied."

***

Merlin's in the middle of a crowded dance floor, bodies packed in on either side. The beat is an electric current running just under his skin and he feels more alive than he has in months. Someone grinds on him from behind, a faceless stranger, and the act of not knowing whose cock is pressed against his arse only adds to his excitement.

A pair of strong arms wrap around his chest and grab at his tie, hands sliding along the length like he's trying to jack him off. Whoever is at his back has dropped all pretense of dancing. He's rutting hard and Merlin presses back, relishing in the imperfect slide of cotton on leather. In the dim lights with the pounding bass drowning out any chance at conversation, he can forget everything that's happened. Feel like a different person. Be free to fuck whoever he wants.

His dance partner comes far too quickly, finishing with a guttural grunt. He drops his head on the back of Merlin's neck, pats his chest once, and disappears back into the crowd. Merlin shivers, the club suddenly cold and his excitement gone.

Arthur is still up waiting for him when he gets home.

"You went out again." He doesn't say it like an accusation but he probably should.

"Yeah."

"Have a good time?"

Arthur's tight-lipped rage is palpable and Merlin should feel something – anything – in response, but all he feels is tired.

"Is my pillow still on the sofa?"

Arthur nods.

"Good."

Arthur looks at him for a long time like he wants to say something. Merlin half hopes he will. Anything to get them out of whatever hell they're trapped in. Instead he turns and walks out. Just like he's done every other time.

***

It's a miserably rainy day to be outside, but no one says anything about the weather. Instead, they all file in around the family, offering support and yet intruding on a private moment.

Merlin's grief is still raw. He feels exposed, engulfed by the crowd and yet standing out by the very nature of the situation. He can't think, can't respond to anyone. All he can do is focus on not crying, because once he starts he knows he won't be able to stop.

He shivers and is surprised at how cold it is. His body is operating completely on autopilot. The only thing he's consciously aware of is how much he's grinding his teeth, trying desperately to give his mouth something to do besides screaming.

The day itself is blessedly brief. Soon he'll be able to go home, loosen his tie, lie down, and hopefully never wake up. He leaves as soon as they lower the coffin into the ground. There's no point in staying – it's not Arthur. Not anymore.

***

"I don't think it matters which one we get on - they're all going to the same place," says Merlin reading the train times.

"Alright," Arthur agrees.

* * *

**12.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

Touched by a Sidhe

Arthur remembered the first time he saw them. He had urged Merlin to wash the gaia berries off his face and hands, but it wasn't nearly enough to clear the disgusting scent from the air. He wrinkled his nose and said, "Strip off, Merlin. We're two days from Camelot and if you think I'm sleeping beside you in camp tonight, you're quite mistaken."

Without a second thought, Arthur shucked his clothes and dove naked into the cool lake.

Merlin fidgeted with his belt, his boots sinking into the mud at the water's edge.

"Come on, don't be shy," Arthur called, rivulets running down his face from his drenched hair. He sliced the water with a chop that sent a splash to where Merlin stood.

Until that day, no one had ever seen Merlin naked, as far as Arthur could recall. So when Merlin stepped out of his trousers and pulled his roughspun tunic over his head, Arthur caught his first glimpse of the three dark moles that decorated his back.

“My mum says I was touched by a sidhe,” Merlin said, shivering in the chilly lake.

“An old wives’ tale, if I ever heard one,” Arthur said. He heaved himself upward and, using both hands, dunked Merlin’s head below the surface of the water.

When Merlin flailed away, gasping for breath, Arthur licked his lips and resolved that he wouldn't think about the blemishes that marred the milky skin of his manservant's back again.

*****

Arthur's resolution didn't last for long. He wanted to see the marks, to touch them with curious fingers and reverent lips. He wanted to know what other gifts the wailing sidhe may have bestowed on Merlin. He found himself assigning Merlin the filthiest jobs, in hopes of visiting Gaius's workshop later, when he suspected Merlin might bathe.

“Scrub the floor of my chambers, Merlin.”

“Sweep the fireplace, Merlin.”

“Muck out the stables, _Mer_ lin.”

Each task was designed to make Merlin dirtier than the previous. Arthur said, "And be sure to wash up afterwards," hoping to encourage a bath.

When Arthur arrived at bathtime to press three gentle fingers to Merlin’s damp skin, the ruse was up for them both.

*****

In the years that followed, Arthur looked to the three tiny circles when he needed grounding. Whether it was after the heat of battle, or when the weight of the crown threatened to crush him after a day in the council chamber, Merlin’s trio of moles beckoned Arthur’s full attention and put his mind at ease.

And Merlin knew it.

Arthur relaxed at Merlin’s welcoming words when the bedchamber door was finally latched. Merlin stood shirtless in front of the crackling fire. He coaxed Arthur, saying, “Go ahead, touch them. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Arthur strode across the stone floor and wrapped Merlin in his arms, nuzzling his nape tenderly. Merlin’s pale skin shivered with gooseflesh under Arthur’s warm hands. Arthur mouthed at Merlin’s shoulder and listened to the pretty sounds Merlin made when he stroked his flanks. He let his thumbs caress the dimples that peeked above the waistband of Merlin’s trousers, whispering, “You’d love for me to touch them, wouldn’t you?”

Merlin murmured his approval.

With one arm secure around Merlin’s waist, Arthur leaned back and _one, two, three,_ tasted each of the moles with the tip of his tongue.

Sprawled on the crimson coverlet, Merlin knelt on all fours, calling over his shoulder, “Please, Arthur. Don’t deny yourself.”

With his cock buried deep in Merlin’s arse, Arthur felt the blood sing through his veins. He fit his hands around Merlin’s narrow waist and pulled him more thoroughly onto his cock. Merlin moaned in encouragement, his face buried in the pillows as Arthur skimmed his slick insides, seeking the private place that would make Merlin cry out in ecstasy.

Arthur shifted his weight and Merlin came, his cock untouched, save for the friction from the bedding that he dampened with his seed. Merlin wailed through his pleasure, so loudly that Arthur bit down on his shoulder to quiet him so he didn’t alert the guards.

Arthur came quickly afterward, with Merlin’s clenching hole milking every last drop from him.

When they both calmed, Arthur sat back on his heels to take a better look. He touched the trio of markings affectionately and whispered, “Touched by a sidhe… hmmm?”

“They’re known to be loud,” Merlin said with a grin.

Arthur smiled and said, “I think perhaps your mother was right.”

* * *

**13.**

**Pairing(s):** Nimueh/Morgause, Morgause/Morgana  
**Warnings:** ritual sex/magic, half-sibling incest  
**Note:** italicized sentences from Shakespeare’s Macbeth (Act 1, Scene 1)

_Enter three witches_

0o0o0

In Morgause’s memory, the Isle is unbroken. The hallways, grander than any palace’s, are filled with priestesses, their chants and prayers echoing in the great gardens and verdoyant fields--pungent smells of earth and blooming life. The great gleaming altar stands at its center like a beacon. Power pulses through the very ground, magic seeping from its core, ancient and powerful, and all for them, Blessed as they are.

Blessed.

In reality, only ruins and crumbling walls under a permanently overcast sky, only the wind and the rain howling across the stone, only Nimueh, wait for her when she steps off the boat. 

Nimueh’s dark hair flows around her, her dress torn and dirty.

“He killed my aunt,” Morgause tells her. “For her child.”

Nimueh’s eyes are sad. “He killed us all.”

0o0o0

Nimueh teaches her the ancient ways--makes fire burst between her hands even in the storms that blow over the Isle. In the constant greyness of the days that stretch around them, Morgause understands: this is how they will survive.

Nimueh nods. “This is how he will be destroyed.”

0o0o0

Morgause lies naked on the altar where so many before her have died for the Goddess. Willing sacrifices. Blessed.

She isn’t here to die, though, she’s here to be reborn.

Nimueh, naked and so pale in the dreariness, her nipples hard and dark from the cold gale, slides her hand along the inside of Morgause’s thigh and Morgause shivers. “You will soon be Hers.”

Morgause doesn’t mind. She would do it outside of any rites. Would let Nimueh do it to her every night.

Nimueh’s fingers push inside Morgause, and her mouth is soft and wet. Morgause slides her own hand between Nimueh’s thighs, and the skies open over them, colder for the heat that’s building inside of them. It feels like a blessing.

0o0o0

When Nimueh dies, Morgause doubles over and retches onto the ground. She’s cold for days.

0o0o0

“Who taught you all this?” Morgana asks, holding her cape tighter around her. Mist clings to her hair and pale lips as Morgause tells her. “I wish I had known her,” Morgana adds, squinting into the air.

There’s a scared little beast under Morgana’s skin and Morgause will destroy it.

0o0o0

Morgana smiles, puts her hand on Morgause’s cheek. “I want all of it,” she says, then disrobes. She doesn’t even flinch in the cold air, doesn’t trip over the uneven ground of stones and dirt.

On her back, with all of her skin on display, she opens her legs and reaches for Morgause with a steady hand.

It’s natural, to climb on the altar and straddle one of Morgana’s legs, to palm at her waist. And it’s good, to see how she arches into it, cants her hips up when Morgause touches her.

Morgana’s wet, so wet that Morgause can hear the squelching sound her hand makes, pumping in and out, above the wind.

“Let Her inside,” Morgause says, bending down to take one of Morgana’s breasts in her mouth. She sucks on it and moans around it when Morgana tangles her hand in Morgause’s hair to keep her there.

Morgause is four fingers deep inside Morgana, now, and Morgana’s rolling into it demanding more like she could take Morgause’s whole hand.

Morgana thrashes, hips going up quick, eyes wide and bright and golden.

Even through her trembles she takes Morgause’s hips in her hands and guides her down on her thigh. “Take it, sister,” she says, shaking. “Join me.”

Morgause rubs herself hard, fast, until her own cries bounce across the stones.

0o0o0

“They tried to kill me,” Morgana says later, eyes cold on the sky, and Morgause knows, then, that the beast has died.

Morgana puts a hand between her thighs. Her wetness, and Morgause’s, shimmer in the weak light all over her thighs and stomach. Morgana moans, rubbing faster at herself and Morgause watches, knows the fury-like power that pulses through her veins, thumbs at Morgana’s nipple to help her. Morgana turns her head to look at her, says, “I’ll kill them first,” and comes.

“Again,” Morgause whispers, shifting to lick into her.

0o0o0

Morgause will die on the altar that gave her life, and when she looks up at Morgana holding the knife over her head, she smiles. Blessed.

Nimueh taught her how to burn. 

Morgause’s death will bring ice. 

And Morgana will destroy them all.

0o0o0

_When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost and won._

* * *

**14.**

**Pairing(s):** Elena/Gwaine/Percival  
**Warnings:** none

“I can’t do this,” Elena says for the fifth time. “I can’t marry him. I can’t move to fucking Camelot.” 

She might be panicking. Just a bit. She spins to look Gwaine in the eye. “And I can’t be separated from you. I’ll die first.”

Gwaine huffs a wan laugh. “No need for dying, now. We’ll think of some—”

“Father says I must. There’s nothing for it.” Elena throws herself on the bed dramatically because Gwaine is the only man she’s ever loved, and she will not be given away as a prize to some newly minted lord. In _Camelot_.

“God even knows what it’s like there,” Elena moans. “You’ve heard the stories. They probably run around naked, with their orgies and their Thirds and—”

Gwaine draws a sharp breath behind her. Elena peeks at him.

“What?”

“A Third,” he says, his eyes lit up. “I could be your Third.”

Elena sits up. She and Gwaine stare at each other for a charged minute, before Elena’s eyes drop to the floor. Her entire face burns hot.

“ _Gwaine_ ,” Elena breathes, scandalized.

“Not—no! Not truly. As a ruse. To get close to him.” Gwaine laughs and clears his throat.

“Oh.” Elena tries to imagine it. “You’ll get close to him and then…”

“I’ll kill him.” Gwaine shrugs. “And we’ll run away together.”

*

“Well,” Elena says.

“Right.” Gwaine shuffles his feet.

Lord Percival isn’t exactly what they’d been expecting. Blinking blue eyes, chiseled features, and a body built like a castle wall.

Elena thinks, a little hysterically, that she and Gwaine will probably need hooks and rope to scale him.

“So,” Gwaine says, and sneaks a glance at her. The wedding is set to proceed momentarily, attended by the full court, including Camelot’s King, Queen, and their Third, a skinny sorcerer. Elena tries not to stare, but they seem so sweet together. Not “disgusting obscenity” at all, or whatever her mother had called it.

“So,” she repeats, and tries to convey her dilemma with just her eyes.

Gwaine tilts his head. “We could put off killing him. Just, until we know what he’s like.”

“Very reasonable,” Elena says and nods a lot.

*

“Lord Percival, I present Sir Gwaine of Carleon. He is—” Elena steels herself. “I brought him as our Third.”

“Oh!” Percival looks oddly taken aback, his eyes round as he stares at Gwaine. “Uh. I mean—anything that pleases you, of course.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

They all stand there, awkwardly, while the fire crackles in the background, and the bed looms large.

Percival coughs. “Uh. I’m not really sure how this works. Do the two of you—”

And that is when they find out that Percival is new to Camelot, too, and not generally used to the idea of Thirds. They stand around some more.

Gwaine lets out a laugh. “Why don’t I get us started then?” And he sinks into the posture of a Third—on his knees, and he looks wrong there, stiff, until Elena goes to stand before him, and his face softens as he looks up at her.

He smiles. “My lady?”

Elena braces herself by focusing on his familiar face and closes her eyes. Undoes her robe and lets it fall, cool air touching her body all over. She hears two sharp intakes of breath, and shuffles forward until she can feel Gwaine’s hot breath below her bellybutton. 

“Elena,” she hears—and feels, murmured worshipfully into the crux of her thighs—before the heat of his mouth closes over her.

His mouth is like an anchor, weighing her to the floor, and Elena loves him, loves his smirk and tongue and clever mind, thinking of a way for them to stay together. She grins over at Percival.

“I want him first,” Elena says firmly. “Inside me.”

Percival nods sharply, almost relieved. “’Course.”

It’s not done. A Third is supposed to be _third_ , to serve the needs of the couple, but by the time Gwaine has her on her back, his cock buried in its rightful place, Elena honestly can’t care.

Gwaine winks at her and looks over at Percival. “Want to fuck me while I fuck her?” 

Percival _whines_ at that, and again when he finally fucks into Gwaine’s arse. Elena is spellbound, eyes locked on Gwaine’s face as he pants and takes it. 

Everytime Percival thrusts forward, Gwaine ruts into her, and it’s like Percival is fucking them both at once.

“This could work,” Elena tells Gwaine thoughtfully, and Gwaine bursts into breathless laughter.

* * *


	2. Group B (Warnings)

**15**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/others  
**Warnings:** drug use, suicidal thoughts

It feels like being hit by a hammer, or walking into a brick wall.

The way the bloke winks at Merlin brings back the smell of Camelot’s forest in summer, the taste of mead at the Rising Sun, the feeling of sweat under a rough linen shirt. Merlin braces himself against the table, swallows hard, and smiles back. Robert is no Gwaine, but he has Gwaine’s easy-going manner and his fierce love of living.

He teaches Merlin what it feels like to fall apart under someone’s touch, and how he sounds when he’s writhing while being opened on a clever tongue and slick fingers, and how deliciously it hurts when Merlin’s fucked hard on a huge, hot cock.

Robert also teaches Merlin how to forget; the sweet, heavy smoke from the pipe curls around them like ghost snakes, grey and evanescent like lost souls.

Merlin leaves before Robert notices the way he doesn’t age. He goes on a crisp October morning, leaving four spring rolls on the table for breakfast in lieu of saying goodbye.

***

The second time it happens, Merlin’s hands get caught in a tangle of dollar bills falling to the floor like wrinkled leaves.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry.”

The girl behind the counter is smiling. Her dimple is just like Gwen’s, her eyes a lighter shade of brown but gentle, so gentle, that if Merlin could still cry he would.

They fuck in the small room she rents from an old lady in Brooklyn. The dust from the curtains tickles Merlin's nose, and the floorboards squeak underneath the bed when Merlin thrusts into her.

He loves her sweet smile and soft hands. He worships her body, revelling in the smooth skin when he cups her breasts, kisses her stomach, and strokes her hair. She makes him forget, even if she’s not as efficient as opium.

"I want a baby," she says on a hot autumn night when they're lying on top of the covers, sweat cooling on their skin. She tangles her fingers with his. "I love you so much."

This time he leaves a note.  
***

The third time it’s winter, harsh and white, snow glistening like glitter cast from some spell. It feels as if the world has been put to sleep, reminding Merlin of the time when Lady Helen sang her song. And gods, that was a thousand years ago. _A thousand,_ Merlin thinks, curling up into a ball on the cold pavement. His heart hurts and he needs to forget.

“You all right there, mate?” The voice makes Merlin think he’s gone crazy. He takes the offered hand and lets himself be pulled up.

He’s nothing like Arthur. He’s got brown eyes and dark, unkempt locks, but it’s good when they make love, slow and warm. David is careful with Merlin’s body, just the way he’s careful with everything in life. It’s even better when they curl up on the couch together, eating crisps and watching _Doctor Who_ reruns because Merlin’s too out of it to focus on anything new.

A black, wet nose pokes Merlin’s hand and Merlin strokes the silky fur, vaguely surprised at how his hand shakes. His body doesn’t want to move. He calls out, “It’s your turn, I walked her yesterday.”

David whistles to their dog, shaking his head at Merlin’s laziness.

Later, when Merlin lies in the darkness of their bedroom listening to David’s soft breathing, he still pretends that this voice belongs to someone else.

 _I’m a cheater,_ he thinks bitterly, so angry with himself he feels like he’s imploding. He only had a few winters with Arthur. He could have a lifetime with David, and yet…

This time he’s not the one to leave, but it hurts just as much. He stumbles on the sidewalk, remembering David’s blank face as he said, “You’re never sober, Merlin. I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry.”

 _No more,_ Merlin thinks bitterly as he walks down the road, feeling old, so old and tired.

He looks to the lake and sighs as a lorry passes him by. The spring is so cold this year, it’s hard to believe that everything’s waking up to life again. The distant hill looks like a tomb. Icy wind burns his face like dragon’s breath. It’d be so easy to walk into the water, heavy stones in his pockets dragging him down. He could close his eyes and forget. But the oblivion of death will never be granted to him.

* * *

**16**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Rape, rape recovery

It takes three weeks for the police to find them.

The room they’re being held in is small and cold. The bed is a single so they sleep curled up close to one another. Their clothes have been taken away.

Merlin cries himself to sleep every night. Most mornings he wakes up crying too.

Arthur doesn’t cry. Not when he first wakes up and realises he’s a captive of the very sex traffickers he’s been trying to arrest. Not when the boss and his men come into the room and strip him roughly. Not when they drag him down to a basement packed with leering faces and one pale, shaking man in the centre of it all. Not when they put a gun to his head and tell him to fuck the shaking man or they both die, right here, right now.

If he didn’t cry when he first pressed himself inside that trembling, terrified body, he won’t start now.

He might never be able to cry again.

The man’s name is Merlin and he was snatched from the street on the way home from his bar job. He’s only been here three days longer than Arthur. But three days may as well be a lifetime at the hands of Cenred King.

Cenred likes to put on shows, and they get taken back to the basement most days. In front of crowds of baying men, Cenred makes them do things that go beyond horror; things they’ll never talk about again, except in whispers on dark nights when the burden of keeping it all inside becomes too much.

They ride in the ambulance together when the rescue finally comes, because Arthur refuses to let Merlin go.

***

It takes three months for them to realise they can’t live apart. And so Merlin moves into Arthur’s flat.

The bed is a double but they still sleep curled up close. Arthur can’t stand stirring in the night and not feeling Merlin’s skin pressed up against his. He needs to always have some part of his body touching Merlin’s, to make sure he’s still there, that he hasn’t slipped away.

Merlin still wakes up crying most days. Arthur cradles his head and wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, soft as he can.

Arthur gets frozen sometimes: in the shower, at the sink, by the fridge; his entire body stiff and numb. When Merlin finds him, he rubs his back and talks quietly until Arthur can move again.

Arthur goes back to his job. He likes having something to do, likes feeling useful. His boss tries to keep him away from rape cases for a while but Arthur asks him not to. That’s where his help is needed most.

Merlin can’t go back to the bar; he’ll never be able to walk alone at night again. He turns his hand to illustration instead, sets up a desk in the living room and draws all day. There’s no real money in it, he might not be able to do it forever, but it works for now.

They don’t have company round much. They need a lot of silence and a lot of space.

They don’t have sex. Arthur can’t imagine ever wanting to do that again. Merlin says, _maybe, one day, who knows._

But they kiss, a lot, last thing before they go to sleep at night, first thing when they wake up in the morning. They kiss when Arthur leaves for work and they kiss when he gets home again. They kiss all the time, over nothing, and it’s simple, it’s wonderful, and nothing that happened to them in that basement can ruin it.

***

It takes three years for Merlin to leave the house unaccompanied. He walks to the park and back, then collapses inside the doorway the second he gets home. It’s easier the next time he tries it. It’s even easier the time after that.

It takes three years for Arthur to cry, and it happens at Christmas when some sentimental old film is playing on the TV. Merlin doesn’t say anything, just grips his hand tight. Arthur watches the people onscreen laugh together, a happy human throng, and lets the tears fall. He thinks about redemption, and what it means to trust another person completely, and how you pick up the pieces of a life shattered beyond imagining.

The family onscreen are singing Auld Lang Syne. Merlin’s hand is warm in his. Outside the snow is falling.

* * *

**17**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin, Gwaine/Percival, Gwen/Morgana  
**Warnings:** A few unsanitary and probably uncomfortable sex toys

“Hello! Welcome to the Trinity Museum of Arthurian History! I’m Em, and I’ll be your tour guide today.

“This tour will take us through some of the most well-preserved artifacts of the Arthurian era. Our collection is a result of half a century’s worth of excavation at several locations throughout South Wales—

“Oh, sorry, do you have a question…? Yes, you in the back…. What was that? Medieval… What? Medieval _sex toys_ —Oh, bloody hell, no. No, um, Arthurian erotic tools are in this museum at the present time. You can’t believe everything you read on the internet, I’m afraid.

“Okay, any more questions? No? Alright, let’s get started….”

—

“This here is one of the crown jewels of our collection. As you can see, this small, ornate clay oil pot is decorated with several elongated spears, and—

“ _No_ , they are _not_ penises, they are _spears_! Those are the spearheads at the top there, and those, uh, round shapes at the bottom…. Well, I can see how you might interpret it that way, but those are _hands_ , see? Two hands holding each spear, at the bottom.”

—

_The oil pot had spent most of its days hidden in a drawer on a bedside table. It had been given to the king as a gift from the dark-haired one with light in his eyes and magic in his fingertips._

_The pot had known the touch of many fingers—gentle fingers, searching for the oil in slow, careful movements; passionate fingers, flung outward with such neediness that they nearly knocked the pot off the nightstand; desperate, fearful fingers, blind and burning and trembling like leaves as they tried to push back tomorrow a little further, to give themselves a little more time, to delay the inevitable._  
  
—

“Our next piece is one of my personal favorites. Experts speculate that this 3-inch-long wooden piece worked similarly to the modern saddle horn, which protrudes at the front of the Western saddle. As you can see, it is decorated with a series of jousting knights—

“Um, no. I’m fairly certain that this piece was never used for anything, uh, scandalous. Though the shape is rather different from the modern-day saddle horn….”

—

_It had always been kept in secret places—the bottom of the saddle bag, the coat pocket, the satchel. It was made to be mounted on a saddle, but a couple of the knights had better ideas. They liked to put the saddle horn in another secret place._

_They’d keep it in for hours sometimes. It was always the same two—the large, brawny one and the roguish brunette. They would lock eyes across the campfire, and one would shift uncomfortably, and the other one would respond with a heavy-lidded look, and they’d excuse themselves to yank the saddle-piece out and replace it with something decidedly more human. Oak could never replace flesh._  
  
—

“Finally, this here is the most famous object in our possession. There’s a lot of debate about what this tool was for. Some speculate that it was a long stone pestle for an apothecary, while others insist that its elongated shape and the slight flare at the end made it ideal for styling hair.

“What was that? …Oh, well, yes. That is another, uh, interpretation….”

—

_When night had fallen and the sun’s light had scattered into a million stars, the women touched and kissed and sighed and loved each other in the most intimate of ways, and although they adored one another’s fingers and tongues, the stone piece was consistently a favorite._

_Sometimes, the pale one would hold the stone while her lover writhed, trembled, gasped, whimpered, cried out at the perfection of it, at the skill of her lady’s wrist. Sometimes they’d trade, and the handmaid would be pulling the noises from her lover’s lips with sweet, delicate movements, so tender that they brought tears. Every fervent touch tightened the air. Every kiss made it glow._

—

“Thank you all for joining us, and I hope you all enjoyed the tour! The gift shop is on your left. Have a wonderful day!”

After everyone else had gone, one man remained. Em sighed.

“Really, Arthur? Did you have to ask those particular questions?” he chided, crossing his arms.

Arthur shrugged, but he was grinning, too, the prat. “What? I knew the truth—I was _there_ , for Christ’s sake. I couldn’t let you deceive all the nice visitors, could I?”

“A little discretion couldn’t hurt. This is the second time this _week._ ”

“You’re showing people sex toys for money,” Arthur replied. “I should think we’ve thrown discretion out the window.

* * *

**18**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Underage (puberty), boy/man, non-con, rough sex, age of sail, bottom!Arthur

"What's buggery?"

Arthur was already in his shirtsleeves, sprawled out on the bed of the great cabin.

Merlin loosened his cravat, then removed his coat.

"Why do you ask?"

"When Papa decided I'd join you, I heard Gaius tell Cook that nothing good would come from sending a boy like me to sea, that I'd be buggered senseless before we left port."

Had Uther had any sense at all, he would have sent Arthur to a good school, rather than having him taught at home until now. Then he would know all about buggery already.

"I'm not sure I ought to tell you." Merlin joined Arthur on the bed. "Your Papa wouldn't thank me for it."

In truth, Arthur's Papa probably would not thank Merlin for a lot of the things he had taught Arthur.

But Arthur was used to getting his way.

He crawled into Merlin's lap and unbuttoned his own shirt, allowing Merlin a glimpse of golden skin and pink nipples. Even though he regularly sampled Arthur's delight, the sight still made Merlin's breeches tight.

"Then show me." Arthur's voice in his ear was like a pellet of opium: a sweet, sticky reminder of pleasures to come. "Please, Merlin?"

It had been easy enough for Merlin to tell himself that he was offering a homesick boy comfort when he first allowed Arthur into his bed. It was only natural that one thing should have led to another, but never _that_. Merlin had not wanted to know the punishment for making the admiral's son his bum-boy.

"Is it something one does with one's mouth?" Arthur licked along Merlin's jaw.

"No."

"With one's fingers?" Button after button, Merlin's waistcoat fell open.

"No."

"Well, if it isn't one or two, it must be ..." Arthur's hand found its way inside Merlin's breeches and drawers, freeing Merlin's prick, "three. But how am I to worship it without neither hands nor mouth?"

Merlin made his choice. He cupped Arthur's bottom. "With this."

Arthur's brow crumpled; he truly did not know.

Well, he would now.

Merlin's grip on Arthur grew firmer, and he slid a thumb along the cleft, through the thin breeches. Arthur yelped, but then he pushed back. Merlin could feel Arthur's stiffness against his stomach.

"Undress, and I'll show you. But it has to be our secret."

Arthur nodded. He was a satyr, always hungry for new pleasures.

Merlin undid his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. "I won't lie to you. It will hurt."

"I don't care." Arthur was already stripping.

He settled on his hands and knees like a whore, wiggling his bottom in the air. He kept his stockings on, oh Lord.

Merlin knelt behind him. He spread Arthur's buttocks, exposing a hole that was currently no hole at all. Arthur's prick stood eager against his belly, but this part needed coaxing.

"I want to put my prick here," Merlin said, and licked.

Arthur's reply turned into a whine, before he remembered to muffle his noises in the pillow.

Merlin licked again, then sucked at the bunched little pleats of skin. He would straighten them out as he stretched Arthur's virgin hole wide open around his prick. The thought made clear fluid bead at his piss-slit and dribble down the shaft.

Soon he could tease a finger inside. Arthur cried out.

"Merlin! Oh, please, Merlin!"

It would have taken a stronger man to deny him.

Merlin found the vial of oil, slicked himself, and pushed. It was tight, but Merlin persevered.

Arthur wailed as he was breached, tensing up at the rude intrusion. It was no use. Once he was fully sheathed, Merlin grabbed Arthur's hips, drew out, then slammed back in. Fuelled by months of teasing, he set a punishing pace.

Arthur made more sounds. Perhaps he even asked Merlin to stop, but Merlin was too far gone to listen.

He mounted Arthur properly, covered that sturdy body with his own. He grabbed Arthur's jaw and kissed him; a man's kisses, not the boyish adorations they had practised nightly for so long.

Arthur did not respond. He was lax now, and had begun to weep. Merlin kissed his tears as they fell. A deep, warm spurt drained him, and claimed Arthur for his.

They collapsed together, bodies joined.

Arthur was trembling.

Merlin curled around him. "Hush now, sweetling. I told you it would hurt, didn't I? Oh, shh! Here, let me take care of you."

Arthur was still sobbing when Merlin stroked him to completion.

* * *

**19**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur/Morgana  
**Warnings:** incest if you want it to be, maybe mild dub-con if you squint?

“The prince must wed the land,” his father had said, and the priestesses had stripped him of his clothing, crowned him with a wreath of holly and left him alone in a meadow with a goblet of strange, burning drink.

~

She comes to him as the sun sets, naked but for the dark hair guarding her mound and shrouding her shoulders. Her green eyes gleam in the shadow of her face as a cat’s, and he bows in front of the mortal body of the priestess, his soul saluting the power of the goddess within her.

The drink has made him hot, too tight in his own skin, and his cock has grown heavy between his legs; and it takes all his warrior discipline to wait unmovingly for her guidance. She gives it easily, drawing him up against her, her skin cool as night air under his feverish touch. She twines her fingers in his hair, her grip only barely shy of pain – but he doesn’t mind the least as she kisses his lips gently, slow and tauntingly sweet.

Like the priestess he is simply the instrument of the goddess in their union, and as she pushes him down he goes gladly, his pleasure only in the thought of pleasing her. She guides his lips to her breast with sharp tugs of hair, and he latches on eagerly, suckling like a newborn babe. She lets out her first noise, a wild, primal groan that vibrates under his hands, and he can’t resist using a bit of teeth; she rewards him with another sound and clever fingers that give his cock a twist that almost makes him sob in pleasure.

She shushes him gently, bending to kiss the top of his head, and her lovely hair falls down as a curtain of the night.

“Rejoice, brother,” she says, the rich velvet of her voice calming his racing heart. “The Horned One has honoured us with his presence.”

Reluctantly, with a final lick he leaves her nipple and turns in her arms to follow her gaze to the edge of woods. A horned figure, surrounded by a faint, golden mist approaches them swiftly, the lightness of his feet carrying him over the grass with the ease of the wind. The glow illuminates a delicate face of otherworldly beauty, golden eyes and knife sharp cheekbones – and again he bows in awe, for this young druid has brought the Horned God to him.

The god laughs, a tantalising sound that takes a piece of his heart for its own, and this time he rises on his own accord, leaving the arms of the goddess to kiss a god. It’s a different sort of kiss, fiercer and deeper and he shudders with need, mindlessly rubbing his cock against an offered thigh.

She comes to stand behind him, the press of her breasts intoxicating against his back. They kiss over his shoulder, their cheeks brushing against his skin, the smacks of their mouths loud and obscene. He grinds forward desperate for relief, then freezes as cool, wet fingers graze against his hole. He waits, taunt as a bowstring, fearing he will explode with both anticipation and fear but small kisses start to melt on both of his shoulders and he melts with them, down to her waiting fingers.

She strokes his insides, finding a place that lights a sea of stars in his mind, and the Horned One swallows his cries with his greedy, clever mouth. Desperately he clamps his hand around the base of his cock to stop the tide of the orgasm building inside him – and he is rewarded with endearments sweeter than he would know how to repeat.

They detangle themselves from him and it feels like his very soul is being ripped apart, but she simply draws him down to the grass with her and the Horned One guides him down to her wet heat. He rests his head against her collarbone, overwhelmed as a thick cock starts pushing against his hole – but finally they move as one, every inch of his body turning into a conduct of divine power and pleasure. He shivers at the loud grunts and moans filling the air around them. A particularly strong thrust makes him cry out with the simultaneous pleasure of being taken and taking, and he spills his seed inside her, the power of his orgasm like the power of gods.

~

Come morning he wakes tangled with them, Merlin and Morgana, and they make love again, as young humans full of life.

* * *

**20**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

It starts on a Friday.

Merlin gets home from work and Arthur’s settled sprawled across the couch, laughing at something on the T.V.

“What are you watching?” Merlin asks, and his tone is casual, because, at this point in time, he has no idea.

“ _Three’s Company_ ,” Arthur says, leaning into the touch when Merlin ruffles his hair as he passes. “Some American sitcom based off of _Man About the House_.”

Merlin hums in response and really, that’s that.

**  
Arthur works over the weekend, and when he gets home late on Sunday night he heads straight for the DVD player.

Merlin thinks it’s sort of cute.  
**  
On Monday night, Merlin crawls into Arthur’s lap, mouths hotly at his jaw.

Arthur cranes his neck, looking over Merlin’s shoulder.

“ _Mer_ lin, it’s the series finale,” he says, pushing at Merlin’s hips.

**  
It’s not that Arthur and Merlin spend all of their spare time having sex. But. Well. They’ve always prided themselves on the fact that they’ve been together for years and still fuck like rabbits.

So when Arthur dodges his advances (again) on Tuesday night, Merlin’s sort of a bit more than irritated.

Five days without sex can do that to a person.

**  
By Wednesday, Merlin has decided that if he hears _Three’s Company, Too_ one more bloody time he’s going to break the T.V. Or possibly Arthur’s face.

**  
Merlin wanks off in the shower on Thursday morning – loud and filthy.

(Arthur doesn’t rise to the bait)

**  
When Friday rolls around again, Merlin is in a mood.

He avoids Arthur and heads straight for the kitchen to make dinner when he gets home.

Arthur pads into the kitchen shortly after, tight V-neck stretched over his back and jeans hugging his hips. Merlin’s cock stirs. Traitorous bastard.

Arthur looks into the empty pot on the stove and then at Merlin.

“I haven’t had dinner yet, you know,” he says. Merlin wants to knee him in the balls.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to take your needs into consideration?” Merlin asks, not meeting Arthur’s gaze.

“What?”

“Oh come off it, Arthur.” Merlin pushes his plate away and stands up. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t been avoiding sex for the past week?”

“Everything else…seems fine, but –“ he rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “It’s like, as soon as I get my hands on you, a fucking sitcom is a hundred times more interesting.”

Arthur’s gaze is heavy and set on Merlin, and it makes him squirm.

“Would you _say_ something?” Merlin snaps.

Arthur rounds the counter. He grips Merlin’s hips from behind, and leans forward to nuzzle at his neck.

Merlin tries to stand his ground. “I want an explanation,” he breathes out. 

Arthur drags his lips downwards, his body pushing forward to trap Merlin between him and the counter.

“This is your explanation,” Arthur answers, and Merlin isn’t quite following, mind already hazy from anticipation.

“W-wha –“

Merlin’s question is interrupted by two fingers pressing into his mouth. Arthur places a kiss beneath Merlin’s ear and whispers a hoarse, “Suck.”

Merlin does, and Arthur slides another hand beneath of the hem of his shirt, nails scratching the coarse hair on his lower belly.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Arthur says, fingers moving rhythmically between Merlin’s lips. “You’re going to strip for me. Don’t rush – wanna watch you.”

Arthur bites the skin against Merlin’s pulse, and Merlin moans. “Then, I’m going to open you open you up – take my time, wait until you’re begging.”

Merlin’s knees nearly buckle beneath him, certain that if Arthur’s hands weren’t wrapped around him. “’m going to bend you over – right here over the counter -- and fuck you until you’ve forgotten your name. And you’ll come, untouched. Understood?”

“ _Mmf_ ,” and a frantic nod is the only response Merlin can manage.

It’s not until Arthur’s balls deep in Merlin’s arse, hands braced on either side of Merlin’s against the edge of the counter, that Merlin _realizes_. 

“Fuck, bloody fucking – oh god – you sadist,” he moans. “Y-you. Fuck. You planned this.”

Merlin can feel Arthur’s smirk against his shoulder. “Wanted you all wound up and desperate,” Arthur mutters, hips thrusting forward.

“Please,” Merlin pants. “ _Please_.”

Arthur brings a hand to Merlin’s jaw, tipping his head to slide their lips together in a wet kiss. “C’mon, love,” he mutters into Merlin’s mouth. “Come for me.”

Merlin’s vision spots when he comes, body falling heavily against Arthur.

"'s still a stupid show," Merlin mumbles into Arthur's neck.

* * *

**21**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Gwen, eventual Gwen/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Discussion of cuckolding

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gwen asks, again. She’s asked so many times it almost doesn’t sound like a question anymore, just a strange ritual statement she repeats in front of their computer now. 

“I’m sure,” Arthur says. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this part with me. I can handle the, er, _set-up_. And you can just meet him on the day we all. Um. Meet.” 

“That would be worse in every aspect and better in none of them,” Arthur says. He’s certain of that much at least. The very last thing he wants is to be caught off guard. 

“Okay,” Gwen says. She smiles her ‘here we go!’ smile and pulls him closer by the arm of his rolling chair and kisses him just as her laptop pings and the light next to Merlin’s name glows green. A little phone icon jangles until she clicks on it. 

“Hello?” says a pleasant, deep voice through the gauzy static of a bad mic. 

“Hi!” Gwen says, leaning a little closer to the keyboard of her computer. “Hi, we’re here. Both of us,” she clarifies, reaching for Arthur’s hand.

“Hi,” Arthur says, after an awkward beat of silence. 

“Hi to you both, it’s great to meet you. In stereo, if not in person.” 

The man — Merlin — has a smiling voice, Arthur decides. He also decides it annoys him. What reason Merlin has for being so cheery before they’ve even committed to anything is a mystery. 

He lets Gwen and Merlin talk and listens with half an ear while the other half of his mind settles out of focus, letting his imagination warp their pleasant conversation into sex noises. His hands are clenched on the armrests of his chair before Gwen startles him out of it with a touch to his wrist. 

“That sounds great,” she’s saying, waving at the screen like Merlin can see her. “We’ll talk again soon.” 

“Bye Gwen,” Merlin says, still chipper, before adding a more cautious, “bye Arthur.” 

“Bye, uh.” Arthur clears his throat, unsure of what to say. “Bye.” 

“Bye Merlin!” Gwen says, shutting her laptop and rotating her chair towards Arthur in one motion.

“What,” Arthur says.

“You said you were sure,” Gwen chides him. 

“I know.” He sighs. 

*

Gwen bites her lip, kneading her feet deeper into the warmth under Arthur’s thigh. The corner of his mouth quirks, but he doesn’t look away from their movie. 

“Are you _su_ —”

“Yes, Gwen. Yes. I’m sure.” 

“It’s just,” Gwen starts, fiddling with their blanket. Arthur turns off the tv, but he can’t quite bring himself to meet her eyes. He cups one of her heels in his palm, stroking her ankle with his thumb. “The idea seems so upsetting to you. I don’t know why you want it. I...don’t know how to want it myself, if it’s only going to hurt you.” 

There are too many ways to respond tightening his throat. He pulls her onto his lap and hugs her hard to his chest instead. 

“It’s going to hurt either way,” he finally admits. “I need… I need you to want it if it’s going to hurt the right way.” 

Gwen hugs him back, running her fingers through the hair at his nape for a long, quiet moment. 

“He sent me pictures,” she says against his temple. Her tone is hesitant, but Arthur’s gut churns and his heart begins to thump. 

He swallows. “And?”

“He’s big,” Gwen whispers. “Bigger than you.” 

Arthur’s hands fist in Gwen’s nightshirt, finding her bare underneath. 

“It’s…” she pauses, and he can feel her breath against the shell of his ear, rapid and light. “It’s going to feel so good when he’s inside me.” 

And all the air in Arthur’s body leaves him in a rush, _exactly_ like he’s been punched. Gwen’s working at his placket, and his cheeks go hot when she gets her hands on his cock, knowing they can both feel how hard he is already. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, digging three fingers into her easily, scalded to know she’s turned on too, thinking of fucking another man. “Tell me, please—”

“I’m gonna be so full,” she says, lining him up and sliding down, all the way, rocking against his pubic bone and squeezing. “He’s going to stretch me open and use me while you watch,” she whines. 

Arthur’s stomach turns and he bites off a pained noise even as he comes so hard his eyes sting.

* * *

**22**

**Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur**  
**Warnings: Guns**

A door slams behind him and Arthur tries suppress his flinch mid-way. A stout man comes into focus, pacing first along the side of the table in front of Arthur then coming to stand directly across from him. “Who was your partner?” he asks. Arthur remains silent and looks away. “If you help me find him, you’ll get less time.” Arthur almost snorts at that. As if he would give Merlin up. The officer switches gears, “Why’d you do it?”  
Arthur huffs out a breath then reluctantly admits, “No idea.” After another moment, “It was hot…it was boring.”  
_Arthur looked up at the sky, exhaling the smoke as if it gave him life. He shut his eyes against the blazing sun and reached out a hand. He felt Merlin’s fingers ghost across his palm. Opening his eyes again, he took in another drag of his cigarette before offering it to Merlin._  
_“What if we did something?” Arthur asked, breaking the silence._  
_“Like what?”_  
_“I don’t know…anything.”_  
***  
They took one look through the gate before deciding, “That one.” Arthur peered into the darkness around him to make sure they were alone before following Merlin over the gate.  
Once he was on the other side, excitement bubbled up inside him, giving him a buzz that no liquor could ever hope to recreate. Merlin was already ahead of him, climbing up the ladder of the diving board. Arthur shucked his clothes at the edge of the pool before diving into the water, the sudden shock of cold only fueling his energy.  
They spent a good half hour mucking around the in the pool before Arthur took Merlin’s hand and led him to the pool’s edge, crowding him so that Merlin’s back was pressed against the tile. He leaned in for a kiss, already a stirring feeling in his abdomen.  
He ran his hands up Merlin’s sides and Merlin pulled him in closer. Merlin’s length was pressed along his thigh, barely contained in the flimsy fabric. Arthur reached a hand between them and pulled them both out, stroking them together. He could feel Merlin’s breath getting quicker against his neck.  
“Uuh Arthur _yes_ ,” Merlin panted. Arthur felt him stiffen with his release and followed quickly after. Before they had a chance to recover, a blinding light switched on around the gate.  
They hopped out of the pool, barely pausing to get their clothing, and climbed over the gate. Behind them, they left a fuming security guard and an equally angry dog. But they kept running, laughing like mad.  
***  
They entered the department store at midday, wandering through the aisles. Merlin looked up at Arthur and leaned his head on his shoulder, before lifting it again in favor of lacing his fingers through Arthur’s as they kept walking.  
Once they came to the electronics aisle, they started discreetly piling the most expensive gadgets on the shelf into their knapsacks.  
Bags bulging, they approached the checkout counters. “Ok, on the count of three, we run for the doors and don’t look back. Good?” Arthur whispered.  
“Yes, good,” Merlin whispered back, glancing wearily at the store employees.  
“Alright then on three. 1…2…3…”  
***  
The motorcycle hummed under them as they approached the small bank, fully supplied with sunglasses, scarves around their mouths, and guns in their belts. Even though it was broad daylight, Arthur still felt like it was 3 AM and he’d been up for days.  
They burst through the doors, waving their guns at the customers then settling on the banker.  
“Good day everyone, this is a robbery, I want hands in the air and I want nobody to move,” Arthur announced loudly.  
Merlin approached the counter, gun pointed forward, and asked the frightened man, “Hand over the money and nobody gets hurt.”  
“We don’t keep money here,” the man replied.  
“Don’t bullshit me. This is a bank, which means it has money,” Merlin said gruffly.  
Outside the doors, police sirens were already coming within earshot.  
“Fine then, everyone hand over your phones,” Arthur intervened.  
“Arthur we’ve got to go NOW,” Merlin said, already moving towards the doors. Arthur gave up and ran out after him, only to be confronted by a police officer.  
“Hands in the air!” the officer shouted.  
Arthur looked over at Merlin who made it farther away but was now standing still, then in a split-second decision screamed, “RUN!” and moved in front of the officer’s path, dropping his gun as he listened to Merlin’s footfalls getting farther away.

* * *

**23**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Percival  
**Warnings:** None

Merlin Emrys was at home on a Friday evening, preparing a romantic dinner for the third date with his long-time childhood friend, Percival Knight. The table was set, the lamb roast and vegetables cooked and little Belgian chocolate mug cakes were cooling in the windowsill.

He dressed in a fetching pair of blue form-fitting skinny jeans and sneakers, along with a sky blue long sleeve T-shirt and a soft red scarf.

Merlin greeted Percival at the door before being presented with a bouquet of roses which were promptly placed in a vase and arranged on the dinner table.

“Merlin, this is fantastic! Where did you learn to cook like this?” Percival asked around a mouthful of roast and potatoes.

“I used to help mum in the kitchen a lot when I was younger,” Merlin smiled shyly.

“Your mum should be proud, this is five star quality food,” said Percival, raising his wine glass.

They adjourned to the lounge for desert. Merlin looked at Percival, failing to suppress a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Percival asked with a raised brow.

“You have some chocolate on your lip,” Merlin smiled, scooting closer.

“Where?” said Percival, wiping at his mouth.

“Right here,” said Merlin, leaning up and catching his lips in a sweet kiss. Slowly drawing back, he looked Percival in the eye, before leaning back in for a second and third kiss, feeling a large hand move to cup the back of his neck, deepening their kisses until they were full on snogging.

Clothes lay discarded on the floor, with hands roaming one another’s bodies. Merlin lay on top of Percival, his lithe, slender body dwarfed in caparison to Percival’s taller, muscular physique. Merlin moaned into the kiss, as Percival groped his pert buttocks.

“May I?” Percival asked, briefly breaking the kiss, his fingers resting near the cleft of Merlin’s arse.

“Yes,” Merlin breathed, trailing kisses down Percival’s neck and collarbone. Percival lathered a finger with spit before gently pushing it past Merlin’s tight ring of muscle. Merlin moaned loudly, Percival’s cock pulsing beneath him while he rocked back into Percival’s intruding digit.

He lowered his head, biting Percival’s neck and sucking a visible bruise on his skin when a second finger was added. Percival managed a third finger into Merlin before his mouth was attacked with an array of filthy kisses, their tongues wrestling frantically while he fingered Merlin’s hole.

“Oh God, Percy! I want- I need you inside me,” Merlin whimpered, his cock slick with arousal as it dribbled down his shaft.

“Not here,” Percival sighed, “Bed!”

Merlin wrapped his legs around Percival’s waist as he hoisted him up, steadily walking to Merlin’s bedroom. He gently lowered Merlin onto the soft sheets of his poster bed, positioning his large cock at Merlin’s hole. “Are you sure you-”

“Yes,” Merlin whispered, cupping his cheek to erase any doubt from Percival’s mind.

“We can stop at any time, just let me know,” Percival leaned down to place a kiss on his lips, slicking Merlin’s hole with his precum. Merlin gasped, his legs tightening around Percival as his cock slid past his tight ring of muscle.

“More,” he begged, pulling Percival in deeper. His back arched when Percival was buried balls deep inside him, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

Percival breathed through gritted teeth, thrusting into the raven haired man as his moans and gasps of ecstasy went straight to his cock, egging him on to increase speed.  
“Oh yes!! Pound me harder, daddy!” Merlin moaned.

Hearing Merlin’s words, Percival let go of all restraint, lifting him in his arms as he thrust vigorously into the smaller man. They looked at each other, never breaking eye contact, taking in the sight of pure bliss etched on one another’s face. “I’m gonna cum!” Percival warned through a low growl.

“Oh yeah, fill me, daddy!” Merlin yelled, flexing his muscles around the taller man’s cock.

Percival yelled out as he thrust into Merlin three more times before erupting inside him with his cock buried to the base.

“Oh fuck!” Merlin gasped, as his own cum shot into the air and landed on his lips, chest and stomach, with the rest drizzling down his balls. Percival caught his lips in a searing kiss, licking the jizz off of Merlin’s mouth before both collapsed on the bed.

“That was incredible!” Percival purred, holding Merlin close.

“I told you, the third date would be magical,” Merlin replied, nuzzling Percival’s neck before they drifted off into sleep.

* * *

**24**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/himself, Merlin/Arthur kind of  
**Warnings:** None

Merlin smiled when he woke up. He stretched and settled back into a comfortable position on his back, unwilling to leave the comfort of his bed. One of Merlin's hands made its way down his abdomen and under his sleep gown to grasp his morning erection. It was rare that he had the chance to get himself off in anything less than a hurried frenzy as he was often late for his duties.

Merlin groaned as he pulled down his foreskin and spread the liquid that was beading at the tip down his shaft. He settled into a slow stroke from tip to base for a long while. He couldn't help but speed up his strokes when he finally allowed his other hand to pinch and rub at his nipples. His strokes were an easy glide as the liquid beading at his tip was continually spread down his shaft. He let himself get lost in a fantasy of strong muscles and blonde hair as he stroked himself to the edge of pleasure.

"Merlin!" Gaius yelled as he knocked on the door and Merlin cursed under his breath as he scrambled to cover himself up. "I need you to go into the forest for supplies," he said as he opened the door and looked around the corner at Merlin.

"I'll be down soon," Merlin assured. He sighed in relief when he heard the door close. Merlin groaned and got out of bed to start the day, his morning erection quickly subsiding.

\---

Late afternoon found Merlin in the forest with a basket full of mushrooms, herbs, and flowers that Gaius needed. Merlin was sat on a rock enjoying his lunch before going back when he had an idea. Surely, he wouldn't be interrupted here. The very thought had Merlin growing hard in the confines of his trousers as he finished. Merlin settled on the ground so he could lean against the rock and deftly unlaced his trousers, he groaned when his knuckles skimmed across the hardness and wrapped his fingers around his length. He gave it a squeeze before starting to stroke at a moderate pace. Merlin moaned as he imagined a different hand stroking down his cock and pulling his hair to make him bare his throat to savage kisses.

A blood-curdling scream pried Merlin from his fantasies and he groaned in frustration as he hurriedly tucked himself away to help whoever had managed to get themselves in such trouble.

\---  
Merlin sighed to himself as he splashed the cold water against his face to keep himself alert before cupping a handful and swallowing it. Arthur, the knights, and Merlin were all camped out in the forest staking out the Wyvern that had supposedly caused the young woman's distress earlier. There were still no signs of the creature and they had finally set up their tents for the night.

Merlin cursed his luck as he filled up the canteens. He briefly considered walking away for a few minutes to take care of his pressing problem, but the raucousness of the knights meant that he wouldn't be able to escape without jeering questions. Merlin sighed and resigned himself to waiting until they were asleep and went to join everyone around the campfire.

\---  
Merlin squinted in the darkness in confusion, he'd fallen asleep as he waited for Arthur to do the same. He was awake now and could surely escape for a few moments, he thought. Then he heard Arthur groan and realized what had woken him up so abruptly. Merlin could hear the tell-tale sound of fabric being rustled and breaths that come quicker than normal. Merlin bit his lower lip as he cupped his quickly growing erection through the fabric of his trousers when he heard Arthur groan again.

Merlin's stomach muscles clenched as he heard Arthur curse and he threw caution to the wind. Merlin slipped his hand into his trousers, not even trying to unlace them and firmly stroked his cock in time to the rustles of fabric he heard. Merlin stuffed his hand into his mouth to muffle a groan of his own. He heard another shout from Arthur shout as he came and Merlin could do nothing but to finally follow Arthur's lead. There was silence as they both brought their breathing back to normal.

"Go to sleep, Merlin," Arthur finally said, breaking the quiet awkwardness of the tent.

"Yes, sire," Merlin replied as he turned onto his side and smiled, finally satiated.

* * *

**25**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** dubcon (could be interpreted as noncon)

Arthur hadn't quite known what to expect when 'the ritual of the chalice' began. He'd assumed he'd he drinking from a cup. He hadn't expected the pale, naked figure of a man presented to him on the altar. A red blindfold was covering the man's eyes, a mop of dark, unruly hair visible underneath.

"We have prepared your chalice," the high priest told him. "Yours will he the act of life, pledging your life to the Knights. His," he said, pointing to the man on the altar, "will be the act of submission. He will be bound to you from this day forward."

Arthur knew better than to ask questions but he felt a flash of heat at the realization that he was to have sex in front of the priest and knight Leon, his mentor. It was Leon who moved forward and gestured to Arthur that he was to take off his clothes and hand them over.

Arthur followed the instructions but moved closer to the altar only hesitatingly, conscious of his nudity and head full of doubts. Who was this man? It looked like a feast that was presented to him, a lamb to the slaughter. His long dark-red cock was standing up proudly but the man was shivering. Fear or anticipation? Drugs maybe?

On inching closer, Arthur's eyes fell upon the tattoos on the ball of the man's feet. One was a triangle, symbol of the Order, the other was a dragon - _his_ symbol. He felt a surge of heat, his cock hardening, not caring about the two spectators. Intuitively he reached out to touch the dragon on the sensitive, inked skin.

"Arthur," the man's voice sounded breathless and hoarse.

"He knows my name?!" Arthur sprang backwards.

"He does." The priest said, "You may know his; it's Merlin."

Arthur moved closer again, letting his hands roam Merlin's body, spread out in front of him. As he did so, the high priest and Leon started chanting. The ritual had begun, there was no going back.

Following the long legs dusted with dark hair, Arthur's fingers traced the jutting hipbones, ultimately mesmirized by the cock that was clearly aching to be touched. When he took it in his hand, Merlin let out a deep sigh of pleasure. He gave it a few tugs and watched Merlin arch up from the table with a soft cry.

The chanting became louder. Arthur was brought back to the job at hand. He let go of Merlin's cock and pushed two fingers into his hole. They came out dripping in oil. Arthur was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be inside of this man. He climbed onto the table and with two knees at either side of Merlin's lean frame. Sinking into the pliant body felt glorious. Merlin pushed back, allowing Arthur to be balls-deep into him.

Arthur fucked Merlin on the rhythm of the chanting and the low moans Merlin let out. He let his hands touch every inch of Merlin's body he could reach, he found and endless expanse of soft skin, ribs sticking out and a delicious musky scent that drove him to go hard and fast.

When he felt Merlin come, arse clenching on his cock, he knew he wasn't far behind. The chanting had become so loud it filled the room. Somehow it finished the moment Arthur came with a strangled cry. In the silence that followed, Merlin's ragged breathing and his own were the only sounds left.

Merlin's lips were curved into a blissful smile and Arthur ached to take off the blindfold. Instead he climbed off the table, nervously looking up to see if he'd passed the final test.

Leon was standing in fron of him, presenting him his new red gown. He had officially joined the order and his mentor was beaming with pride.

"You may now drink from the cup of life," the high priest said, holding out the cup.

The last Arthur remembered was the liquid touching his lips.

He woke up with an unfamiliar, smiling face above his. "You're awake!"

It took several moments for Arthur to piece everything together. "Merlin?"

Merlin kissed him and response and things escalated quickly after that...

"They say you are to be king one day," Merlin said afterwards, wiggling in Arthur's embrace to face him.

Arthur nodded and Merlin moved closer to kiss him again. "Then I will be there to help you carry the burden."

* * *

**26**

**Pairings:** Merlin/Arthur/Gwaine  
**Warning:** Sex Pollen  
Merlin was rather unaware of how he got into his current situation. He knew that he and Arthur had been on a quest to find a special jewel of some sort. What he didn’t know, however, was how he ended up flat on his back on a cold stone floor.

He looked around the room for a means of escape. A slumped figure, which looked suspiciously like Gwaine, was across the room and Arthur was lying in a similar predicament to his left. Merlin noted the lack of doors and windows in the chamber. Merlin felt he _should_ be wondering how it was possible they were in here but, mostly, he was just annoyed.

He whispered a few spells to reveal any hidden doors and felt a slight push back. _Of course the room is magic. Why wouldn’t it be?_

“Hey, Prat!” He slapped Arthur’s face lightly.

“Urrggg” Arthur stirred.

“Get your princely arse up and get us out of here,” Merlin said, aggravated.

“Where are we? What happened?” Arthur sat up quickly once he noticed the surroundings.

“Is that Gwaine?” He looked up at Merlin, confused.

“Yeah. I don’t know why he’s here either. Are you surprised he’s found trouble though? Considering who he is?”

“No, I suppose not.” Arthur went over to Gwaine to nudge him with his boot. He turned over and grinned up at them.

“Hello, boys! What are you guys doing here?” He stood up and hugged Merlin tightly.

“I was honestly hoping you could tell us. What is this place?” Gwaine only shrugged in response.

Suddenly a bright light erupted from the center of the room. Merlin shielded his eyes from the harsh light until it died down. He was left with spots in his vision but he could slightly make out a giant flower sitting where the light had been. Something about it called for Merlin to touch it.

“ _Mer_ lin, you idiot! What are you doing?” Arthur yelled when he noticed Merlin moving to touch the nearest flower petal. He reached for Merlin’s arm but it was too late. The moment Merlin stroked the petal, a fine mist released from the center of the flower.

Merlin felt the effect immediately. His mind filled with fog. He suddenly _needed_ release, his cock was growing heavy.

Arthur moved and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s middle from behind and began kissing his neck.

“O-oh gods,” Merlin breathed. He was hypersensitive to the touch and he felt amazing. He felt his magic just beneath the surface of his skin, needing to be released. He let it go and sank into Arthur’s strong chest behind him. His magic caressed their bodies, bringing goosebumps on their skin. He felt warmth against his front and kissed Gwaine hard on the mouth, their tongues gliding together.

Arthur rutted his hardness on Merlin’s arse and Merlin couldn’t take it anymore. He willed their clothes away, not finding it within himself to care about using his magic so blatantly, and pressed both of their bodies closer to his own. They began kissing over his shoulder and he decided he needed someone inside of him. He let his magic slick his hole up and reached down to give Gwaine’s cock some attention. Gwaine moaned into the kiss he was sharing with Arthur and they turned their attention to Merlin.

“Bend over,” Arthur commanded. Merlin was happy to oblige. They separated and he got down on all fours. Arthur and Gwaine sank to their knees. Gwaine guided his cock to Merlin’s mouth and he eagerly took it to the hilt. He bobbed his head, swirling his tongue around the shaft. Gwaine shuttered and moaned to the ceiling.

Arthur entered Merlin and he nearly passed out. He felt deliciously full and hot. Gwaine’s hands were tangled in his hair and he was thrusting roughly into his mouth. Arthur’s hands were digging into his sides hard enough to leave bruises, his cock sliding, frictionless into Merlin’s wet hole. He could feel his orgasm building and moaned around Gwaine’s cock. Gwaine grasped Merlin’s chin and held his head in place while he came down Merlin’s throat. Merlin greedily licked up every drop.

Arthur continued to thrust into him until he shifted slightly, brushing against Merlin’s prostate. Merlin’s orgasm tore out of him, his cum spilling onto the stone floor. He could barely keep himself up as Arthur slammed inside of him, cumming with a startled cry.

Merlin lay on the floor, breathing heavily, until he felt the fog clear out of his mind. He stood up quickly, his face hot with embarrassment. He found his wide-eyed expression mirrored back at him from Gwaine and Arthur.

“What the _fuck_?!” they yelled in unison.

* * *

**27**

**Relationships:** Gwaine/Leon/Mary the Tavernkeeper  
**Warnings:** None

They stepped through the creaking door of the tavern, and Leon's nose was assaulted by beer souring on the floor.

"Are you certain we should be here?"

Gwaine moved easily in the peasant clothes he was wearing as a disguise - they were probably his own, Leon reflected ruefully. Unlike Leon, he seemed comfortable entering an empty village tavern, where sunlight (and other things) streamed down the walls.

"I'm certain I should, and you won't be turned away."

With that, he sauntered to a door behind the bar and knocked, two quick raps.

"If that's you, you scoundrel, come in!" shouted a woman's voice.

Leon blinked and felt his face heat. Gwaine had brought him to cover for an _assignation_.

\---

"Mary, this is my friend Leon. Leon, Mary."

Mary was a short, round woman with sharp eyes. She sized Leon up in a moment. "So now you're bringing me nobles? Has he ever done this before?"

 _Bringing you-?_ Leon mouthed, but Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hasn't worked a real day in his life, me love. Needs a bit of breaking in."

"I can imagine," Mary said. The heat in her gaze said she imagined quite a lot.

Leon blushed.

"Well then," she clapped, turning her attention suddenly away. "Pies won't bake themselves!"

" _What are we doing here_ ," Leon hissed to Gwaine while Mary pulled a live chicken out of its cage.

"I may have busted the place up, a while back. I promised her one day of work a month for 3 years to make up for it. And to bring round any friends who were easy on the eyes and might not be terrible at chopping wood and toting things."

Leon wasn't sure if he was more flustered at 'easy on the eyes' or the declaration that he and Gwaine were friends.

\---

"Chop 'em real small," Mary said, measuring out buttermilk precisely in an old cup that had clearly served that purpose for many decades. "Carrots ain't doing well this year, we'll have to stretch 'em."

Leon did so. The chopping knife was echoed by a fainter sound from outside - Gwaine splitting wood. Gwaine, banished from the kitchen for not following directions. Meanwhile Leon, who'd never done this before, was praised for doing "exactly what I tell you - yes, just like that."

The kitchen was hot, but it smelled delicious as Mary unrolled crusts over the first two meat pies and set them on a tray.

"So," she said, backing out of the stone oven, "you a friend of his, then?"

"Comrade in arms," Leon corrected, then wondered. Gwaine had said 'friend', hadn't he? "I... suppose we're friends. Or trying to be."

She nodded. "Good luck with that one. He flits in and out of here like he does with everyone."

Leon wanted to argue, to defend Gwaine's constancy, but.... Loyal, yes. Constant? That was harder to say.

Did Leon require constancy, from friends? It wasn't a question he'd ever had to ask before.

\---

"There we are!" Mary pulled the last pie from the oven and set it inside a cupboard to cool (when Leon had asked, she'd muttered about flies, so he'd stopped asking).

Gwaine, hauling a barrel of cider up from the cellar, paused and flipped his hair out of his face. "That's it, then?"

Leon's belly dropped. He wasn't sure why he was disappointed, but Gwaine's smile at being freed was genuine.

"Two hours before opening," Mary confirmed, smirking. Leon's belly swooped.

\---

"Ever done this before, lad?"

Leon murmured a negative against her thigh.

She chuckled. "I'll talk you through, then. You're good at doing as your told."

"Oy," Gwaine said, spooning her and leaning back against the headboard, his hands playing with her breasts. "You like it when I'm creative."

"And I like it when he follows directions."

Leon hid a smile.

"Now, you've got a beard - good choice that-"

"Thanks," Gwaine said.

"-so use it. Some women will think it's too much, but I like a bit of rough. Get in there, lad, not just your tongue - oh! Yes, like that. Very," she breathed, "ooooooh."

Leon felt her hands tangle in his hair, but he hardly cared at this point, straining against the mattress, pressing furious against her wet heat with his whole face, as if he could bury himself in it.

Then he felt a third hand, long-fingered, curl around the back of his neck.

Gwaine's voice was so hoarse it cracked. "Told ya you wouldn't be turned away."

* * *

**28**

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur  
Warnings: none

“We've been just fine without you, so you can teleport right away,” Merlin says, waving his arms as if trying to get rid of annoying insect.

“It's orbing.”

“What?” Merlin asks.

“The teleporting is called orbing.”

“I don't care what it's called. We don't need any Whitelighter,” Merlin says.

“Maybe we should at least concider,” Mordred starts, but Merlin doesn't let him finish.

“We're doing just fine.”

“A month ago you claimed Power of Three was bullshit, and here we are, defeating monsters together every other day,” Gilli jumps in.

“Doesn't mean we need a prattish angel,” Merlin grumbles. “What's your name again?”

“I'm Arthur,” the Whitelighter says, smiling at him.

*

“Mordred, Gilli, I need help here,” Merlin shouts, adrenalin from the fight still coursing his veins. “What the hell are you trying to prove?” he directs in Arthur's direction, tearing the shirt around the arrow sticking out of Arthur's torso.

“I'm here to protect you,” Arthur says, his face pale.

“Darklighter's poison isn't lethal for sorcerers, but it could kill you. He wasn't going after me, you stupid prat with a savior complex the size of British Islands.”

“I'm not sure if my healing magic is strong enough,” Gilli says, kneeling down beside them.

“You need to trust in yourself more,” Mordred says, pressing two fingers against Arthur's brow, sending him to sleep.

“Did you really need to bring Gwaine into this?” Merlin asks while Gilli concentrates on his task.

“He just wants to help,” Mordred says.

“He's a demon.”

They had this conversation so many times, Merlin stopped counting. It's not like he can stop his brother from seeing Gwaine.

“It's not like we can choose who we love, no matter the rules. You of all people should understand,” Mordred says.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Merlin deflects, looking down at the steady rise and fall of Arthur's chest.

*

“I can't orb out of here,” Arthur says.

“Useless,” Merlin hisses, closing his eyes and calling forth his magic, except… it doesn't respond. He tries again and again. Nothing.

He opens his eyes, feeling panic rise inside him.

“Calm down,” Arthur says, placing his hands on Merlin's shoulders. “We'll figure it out. We always do.”

The way he says 'we' makes Merlin feel all warm inside.

*

They fall asleep against the wall, huddling together to share body heat.

*

Merlin jolts awake, feeling a tug inside his mind.

“What's going on?” Arthur asks, sleepy.

“I feel something,” Merlin says, the urge to go distracting him from telling Arthur more.

He walks through the tunnels, Arthur following him closely. They arrive at a dead end, Merlin's head ringing with the force of the foreign call. He presses his right hand to his temple, pain-filled exhale leaving his lips, steadying himself by pressing his other palm against the wall in front of him.

Next moment, the wall is gone.

*

“What do you think it is?” Arthur asks.

Merlin doesn't answer, fascinated by the weirdly shaped stone in front of him. He lifts his hand to touch. Arthur tries to stop him, but Merlin evades him, his fingertips connecting with the cool smooth surface.

Series of images flash through Merlin's mind, foreign yet familiar. A surge of power soars through his limbs, making him cry out and fall to his knees.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouts, kneeling beside him.

“Aithusa,” Merlin breathes out.

The stone cracks open. A little white dragon stretches its wings for the first time.

*

Things escalate quickly.

Five demons teleport inside the cave. His usual powers are still locked away, but he can feel something new build up under his skin.

“Don't touch him!” he orders, his voice echoing in the vast cave. Arthur stands beside him, ready to defend him with all his strength, unaware of the change Merlin's going through.

The demons ignore his words.

“Your choice,” Merlin says and unleashes the wave of pure power, primal and ruthless.

It tears through the demons, not giving them enough time for a single scream.

Drunk on power, Merlin pulls Arthur close, sealing their lips with a kiss. It's wild and all-encompassing, just like the force radiating from Merlin. Long repressed desires are freed and they make love for the first time on the magically softened floor of the dragon cave, the power slowly retreating inside the hidden place in Merlin's mind, making room for soft kisses and pleasure.

*

“What do you mean that dragonlords can get pregnant?!” Merlin yells at rapidly retreating Arthur.

* * *

**29**

**Pairing(s):** Gwaine/Elyan/Vivian  
**Warnings:** none

Gwaine has a lot of threesomes, he knows, even for someone who knows a lot of couples and has a reputation for being generally sexually flexible. That doesn't mean he's expecting it when he's round for tea with Elyan and Vivian and halfway through the second course - because Vivian insists on doing dinner _properly_ \- she announces, "You should fuck Elyan while he eats me out."

Gwaine chokes on a mouthful of chicken. Elyan puts his head in his hands.

"Vivian," he says, muffled. "We talked about this."

"Subtlety never got anyone laid," Vivian says matter-of-factly. She looks at Gwaine, assessing. "Do you want to? We can just pretend I never said anything if you don't."

Gwaine shakes his head violently, swallows hard and says, "No, yes, I want to," and Vivian grins.

*

Gwaine's been in their bedroom before, but never under these circumstances. The silk sheets - Vivian - and abstract art on the walls - Elyan - look entirely different now. He tries not to think about his friends having sex, as a rule, but now they're all naked, they're all naked on Elyan and Vivian's bed, and Gwaine sort of thinks it's allowed.

Vivian reaches out to him, and he goes, easy. He'd been waiting to be told what to do, anyway; he's always careful not to overstep. She winds a hand into his hair, kisses him, and yeah, okay, Gwaine can do it like this if they're doing it like this. He deepens the kiss, stroking soft thumbs down her side, and she makes an approving noise into his mouth.

"I'm going to get him ready for you," she says, and Elyan drops his head to her shoulder and bites gently down.

Vivian hands Gwaine a condom as she gets out the lube, squirting it into her palm. Elyan rolls onto his stomach for her, going back over his knees, and she slides one wet finger inside him. He makes a noise, a bit more than an exhalation of breath.

"Good?" she asks, and doesn't add another finger until he says, "Yeah."

"Now you," she says to Gwaine when she's done, and lies back.

She watches as Gwaine eases into Elyan, hands folded neatly on her chest, waiting. Elyan's back arches, and he pushes back against Gwaine, and Gwaine holds himself still for a minute, just enjoying how Elyan feels around him, before he starts moving.

He goes slow, because Vivian didn't say not to, and Gwaine likes taking his time. Elyan moans, and Vivian pulls him down, puts his mouth right on her, holds his head just there.

"Fuck," Gwaine breathes, "that’s hot," and Vivian tries to laugh, but it gets lost in a moan of her own.

Gwaine moves faster, now. Vivian's pulling Elyan into her, and Elyan's pushing back against Gwaine, and the three of them are rocking together, points of a triangle flowing into each other to make an ellipse.

When Vivian comes, loud and drawn out, it throws off Gwaine's entire rhythm, but he doesn't think he's ever minded less. A few thrusts later, and he's coming, too. He pulls out, flops down on the bed next to Vivian, Elyan now lying between them.

"I'm glad you two enjoyed yourselves," Elyan says, dry, and Vivian laughs.

"Get him off however you like," Vivian says to Gwaine, "I'm enjoying my afterglow," and Gwaine is only too happy to oblige.

This is usually the point where he'd flip Elyan over, swallow him down, but he pulls Elyan up to him instead. He wants to know what Elyan will taste like with Vivian lingering in his mouth and, besides, there's nothing like the closeness of someone's body along the length of yours.

Elyan doesn't kiss anything like Vivian. He rubs up against Gwaine's stomach, little jerks like he's not conscious of doing it.

"Go on," Vivian says, and Gwaine gets a hand in between them, closes firm around Elyan's dick. He'll get a cramp at this angle, but it means he gets to keep kissing Elyan, feel the weight of him. He'll live.

Elyan's nearly silent when he comes, a breath into Gwaine's mouth, hot wet into Gwaine's hand. Gwaine's prepared for the loss of Elyan on top of him, but it doesn't come.

"We have to do this again," Elyan says, and Vivian says, "I _told_ you it was a good idea," and Gwaine just presses his face into Elyan's neck and laughs.


	3. Group C (Warnings)

**30.**

**Pairing(s):** Lancelot/Gwaine  
 **Warnings:** none

"You can't annoy me into having sex with you, Gwaine."

"Well now you're just making it sound like a challenge. And I _love_ challenges," Gwaine says with a flutter of his eyelashes and an obvious head-to-toe leer.

Lance sighs deeply.

Week 1

Gwaine beams at Lance, face streaked with mud and hair falling out of his ponytail, bloody and euphoric after their rugby match in a way that has no right to be attractive.

Lance doesn’t think about how Gwaine's abs must look right now, heaving and sweaty. Gwaine is annoying, if aesthetically pleasing, which is really just a universally acknowledged fact, on both counts.

"So, what do you say about coming back to my place?"

"Already have plans, Gwaine."

"Aw, c'mon, it'll be fun! And as long as I have a face, you'll have a place to sit." Gwaine waggles his eyebrows.

Lance huffs and walks off. 

Gwaine is ridiculous, and his lame chat-up lines are not cute or endearing, and Lance will not spend the rest of the night thinking about sitting. At all.

Week 2

"Gwaine, _Gwaine_ , stop that."

Of course Gwaine only smirks and spreads his legs wider as he leans back, his shirt rucked up enough that Lance can see every second of him stroking idly at the happy trail leading into his low-slung jeans. So low-slung in fact that Lance can just get a hint of the thick hatch of hair above the button.

He's not wearing pants.

That's just-- That's just _something_. It's something, alright.

"Wha? I'm not doing anything," Gwaine says as his fingertip slips down underneath the waistband carelessly. The _cheeky_ …

He's driving Lance absolutely _mental_ , is what he is.

Week 3

Lance is going to climb the _bloody walls_ if Gwaine doesn't stop. He is losing his goddamn mind.

"Fuck," he swears, loudly, and Gwaine's eyes glimmer.

"Oooh, what's this I hear, the ever proper Lancelot cursing?"

Lance growls. "Seriously, Gwaine, will you just _fuck off_?"

"I'd rather you fuck me," he says, pushing suddenly into Lance's space, overwhelming and undeniably _there_ , the scent and feel of him too close, and Lance's hands clench so tightly into fists that they shake.

Gwaine is so, _so_ \-- " _Fuck_ ," he swears again and hauls Gwaine in by the nape of his neck.

If Lance is being honest as he bites into Gwaine's mouth, he almost expects Gwaine to smirk or gloat, but Gwaine doesn't, he only scrabbles at Lance's shirt, fingers sliding under and callouses catching in a way that makes Lance's entire body shudder, and whimpers, throaty and high-pitched, mumbling, "Yeah, _yeah_ ," in between kisses.

"Do you have any idea," Gwaine continues as he shoves at Lance's shirt until it's off and on the ground, "how bleeding gorgeous you are like this? I knew you would be."

Lance grapples with Gwaine's jeans, pulse thundering in his ears while he tries to suck in desperately needed air, the room narrowed down to nothing but the feel of Gwaine underneath his hands.

Then Gwaine is stepping back and pulling Lance along with him in a rush, shucking off his shirt and kicking his pants off. "C'mon, need you to fuck me, I've been thinking about it for _months_ , you beautiful, stubborn bastard," he pants into Lance's ear, and there's not much Lance can do about that but grab Gwaine by the waist and throw him onto the bed.

Gwaine sprawls loose-limbed and glorious over the sheets, muscles heaving and ruddy with exertion, cock as thick and gorgeous as Lance had not been fantasising about.

Someday he's going to suck on that cock until he chokes and Gwaine actually forgets how to talk for once. But for now he climbs up the bed and grabs Lance by the hair.

"Open up."

*

"I think I've worked up an appetite. Might need a nap first, though."

Lance groans. "Ge' out," he mumbles into the pillow.

"Nah," Gwaine says with a back-arching stretch that Lance can't help but follow, anticipation unfurling low in his belly. "I think I like you like this, all messy and fucked, and I'm rather comfortable at the moment, I must say. Don't plan to go anywhere, to be honest, not for a long time."

Lance nearly retorts with something sarcastic, because that's what Gwaine does to him apparently, brings out all those thoughts he's spent his life ignoring, but there's something soft and genuine in Gwaine's smile, the kind of smile no one's ever given him before, so he just curses and pulls Gwaine into him for a post-shag cuddle.

The arsehole.

* * *

**31.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur/Percy  
 **Warnings:** unsafe sex

A staircase on the right led Merlin up to a dimly lit corridor. Painted on the first door he reached was a large, gold number one. He looked down at the smooth black key with the golden number three etched on it and carried on, his grip slick with sweat. Gwaine, drunk and grinning, had told him about the club a couple of months ago. “Mate, you’ve got to be ready for _anything_. Last time I was there, I was tied to the bed and two girls with strap-ons took turns fucking me blind.”

Merlin’s stomach clenched at the thought as he stopped in front of number three. He’d fantasised about this room since Gwaine’d told him about it, thought of a hundred different scenarios waiting behind the door when it swung open. All he had to do was open it. Surrender himself.

Pulse thundering, he pressed the key to the rectangular shape in the door until here was a loud click. Merlin pushed the door open, stepped inside and jumped when the door slammed shut.

The room was dimly lit in a soft yellow light, illuminating a large, broad-shouldered man kneeling on the floor, thighs so thick Merlin almost swallowed his tongue. His hands were curled around another set of fantastic thighs as he had his mouth fucked, lips red and spit-slicked. Merlin’s blood roared in his ears, hands shaking.

The bloke fucking his mouth brushed a thumb across his cheek, choked voice saying, “So perfect for me, Percy,” and Merlin’s gut flooded with greedy need. He wanted the blond bloke to say his name, just like that, sex spilling out of his hot mouth. The bloke turned his head and held Merlin’s gaze as he gave a particularly deep thrust that Percy took with a wet moan.

He slipped out of Percy’s mouth, said, “our company’s here,” and Percy got to his feet, smiling. Shit, he was tall, his dick fat and hard. When Percy strode towards him, Merlin watched it move with every step.

When they both undressed him, bodies close, a voice brushing his ear said, “I’m Arthur.” Their hands lingered on his hips, on his chest, near the base of his steadily hardening cock.

“’m Merlin,” he managed before Percy slipped his tongue into his mouth.

He was kissing back, urgent, when Arthur’s hand cupped his arse, fingers moving to press at his hole. They slid in easily and Arthur let out a surprised breath when Merlin bucked into it.

“God, yeah, you’ve prepared for this.” Arthur nipped at his jaw. “Do you want to get fucked tonight?”

Merlin nodded, panting against Percy’s mouth.

“Percy’s cock feels amazing up your arse. He’ll fuck you good.”

A thrill of anticipation raced up his spine and he buried his face into Percy’s neck, his skin oversensitive under their fleeting touches.

Even though there was a bed, they pushed Merlin to his knees on the slightly padded carpet. His cheeks flamed with heat as he tried to calm his shallow breath, thighs shaking as he waited. Percy mounted him from behind, his thick cock pushing in until he was buried in Merlin’s arse, his solid presence so overwhelming that Merlin took two great, gulping breaths.

Percy’s cock fucking into him with hard thrusts as his hole took it, wet and greedy and ready. He rocked back on it giving strangled noises when his arse clenched around the girth, his cock dripping onto the carpet below as he was pounded, taken and used so good.

He was losing track of anything but the feeling of dick in his arse when his open, panting mouth was stuffed full with Arthur’s cock. It slid roughly over his tongue as Arthur’s fingers tangled into his hair and Arthur didn’t stop until Merlin was nearly choking on it, mouth spread wide at the base. He was pushed forwards and Arthur moaned above him, fingers tightening.

It felt like his body belonged to someone else, like he didn’t know himself. He licked sloppily at Arthur’s dick, loved the taste of it on his tongue.

“Fuck, such a good mouth,” Arthur said, fucking in with a sharp roll of his hips. “You fucking his arse good?”

Percy’s only reply was a loud groan as he slammed in, filling Merlin with his come. Merlin’s shout was muffled by the cock in his mouth. He looked up, and his whole body shook when Arthur, eyes heavy with lust, groaned, “Merlin.”

* * *

**32.**

**Pairing(s):** Elyan/Isolde/Tristan  
 **Warnings:** dub-con

“Oh, don't _sulk_ , darling, it's only going to be three days or so.”

Elyan doesn't dignify that with a response. He's trapped in the cockpit of a ship heading for deep space with two of the most notorious thieves in the galaxy piloting, he is very much entitled to a sulk.

“Maybe he's worried we're not going to entertain him,” says Tristan, with a wicked grin, and pulls Isolde into his lap. “Don't worry, officer, we've got plans.”

“Yes, you do. You've had them the last two times you ended up kidnapping me as well.”

Isolde just laughs and grinds down into her husband's lap. “Well, third time's the charm? You could turn down taking on cases where you know we'll just foil you. No one could blame you. Admit it, you miss us when we aren't around.”

Elyan looks at the instrument panel. It's handprint-access, or he would already have them turned around. He's quite good with ships, but it's hard to hack biometrics. “The two of you are officially under arrest,” he points out.

“Yes, well, we'll stay that way until we've had time to fence our goods.” Tristan meets Isolde's movements with a little thrust of his own, and then he raises his eyebrows at Elyan until he turns away. “And then you're welcome to get off at the nearest port or come have a lovely vacation with us.”

“A vacation. You do know I'd get fired.” And Gwen would never forgive him, which is just about enough to outweigh temptation. He doesn't get to wander much these days. It could be nice.

“Your brother-in-law owns a planet,” Isolde points out. She's found a rhythm now, pressing down against her husband's thighs, cheeks turning pink. They've never been quite this blatant about it before, but Elyan can't make himself look away either. “I think you could keep your job if you _really_ wanted.”

“You could chase us as far as you please. A difficult field assignment, you—ah, fuck.” Tristan meets Elyan's eyes over Isolde's shoulder. “You could join in, if you like.”

Elyan knows himself well enough to admit that it's a good offer. There's still adrenaline in his system from that fight that got him dragged onto their ship and out of orbit again, and both of them are attractive and they want him. They've made that clear. “Have I got quarters to myself again?”

“No, come on, stay a while.” Isolde reaches a hand down so she's rubbing against it when she isn't rubbing against Tristan's clothed erection, and Elyan tries not to look. “We'll stop any time you tell us to stop.” She grins and then gasps as Tristan leans forward and bites gently at her neck. “The sex, I mean. Not the crime. I'm sure you know how likely that is.”

Considering they were notorious long before Elyan got on the right side of the law, it's not very likely, but Elyan's always been fond of a lost cause. “You aren't going to be able to fence those panels, you know. The whole galaxy will know they're gone by now.”

Tristan scoffs. “As though the panels are the point. They're just a nice distracting high-profile target. Really, you're smarter than that.” Isolde does something that makes him gasp and move up into her. From everything on their faces, they might as well not have the polite barrier of their clothes between them. “Besides, if we hadn't done something so high-profile, we wouldn't have run across you.”

“And we'd hate to miss you,” says Isolde. Her breathing is higher and shakier now. She's already ready to go over, after almost no time at all, when they're still accelerating out of Camelot's gravity.

“I can't believe you. Are you getting arrested on purpose?”

“Well, no. We're escaping with a hostage.” Isolde makes a high, pained noise. “Come on, just a little more.”

Three days out in deep space before they make whatever port they deem safe to drop him at, and it doesn't seem like they plan to make it easy for him to resist this time. They're enjoying themselves, and they're gorgeous, arched into each other, both of them putting on a show in the pilot's seat.

It might be one of the worse ideas Elyan's ever had, but he loosens his belt and slips his hand inside his trousers, gets a grip on his cock.

“What did I tell you? Third time's always the charm,” Isolde crows, and comes gasping.

* * *

**33.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** D/s, bondage

There were three things Arthur never did - apologize, beg, or hope.

~*~

He had desperately been afraid of this moment for years, but now that Uther had found out - and in the worst way possible, catching Arthur balls deep in his best friend Leon - all Arthur could feel was an immense feeling of relief. 

His father had turned as white as a sheet briefly, but no sound had escaped his lips. After he a second, he merely turned on his heel and the door shut behind him with a soft click. 

After an hour, Arthur had trudged towards his father’s study, prepared for his father’s rage and insults. Instead, his father had said nothing at all for several minutes. He kept staring down at his immaculately organized mahogany desk as Arthur tried his best not to fidget. 

When he finally spoke it was with a practiced detachment. “I will not have a monster for a son. We can try to put this abhorrent moment in the past, and you will never engage in such activities again, or you can continue your deviant behavior elsewhere.” 

To Arthur’s surprise, he didn’t even need to think about it. He wasn’t going to apologize for who he was anymore. 

As he walked out of his father’s home, with only the clothes on his bag, and looked back at his father’s cold expression, he knew he’d never see him again.

~*~

The red-headed man’s beefy hands clutched around Arthur’s throat. “Do you want me to stop?”

Arthur grasped at the man’s hands lightly, but shook his head. 

The man chuckled and squeezed harder.

Gerald was a regular of Arthur’s and always liked to make Arthur squirm, but no matter how rough he was, Arthur never begged him to stop. 

This was Arthur’s life now. He’d actually managed to make quite a nice life for himself, prostituting himself. He seemed to fit a niche that the men who prowled the streets of Camelot had been looking for. 

No matter what depraved act they wanted down, Arthur was the man for the job. He’d participated in more than a few gangbangs. Men tied him up, whipped him, pissed on him. He’d even had some who wanted him to play dead. He did it all with a sense of detachment that would make his father proud.

There were times it got to him, times that he found himself reaching for the phone, itching to call his father, but he always stopped himself. He would never beg his father to accept him.

~*~

Arthur didn’t understand how Merlin could be real. Merlin had just entered him, just as gently as ever, and the way he was looking down at him, made him feel things inside he didn’t want to think about.

Merlin was half the age of all of Arthur’s regular customers. When Merlin had approached Arthur he was sure he was just having a laugh, but as long as Merlin had the money, Arthur didn’t question it too much.

Arthur was sure Merlin must have been a virgin, he was so tentative their first time, but Arthur soon discovered that was just the way Merlin was. He treated Arthur like precious glass and always looked into his eyes and made him feel like he could see right through Arthur’s hard shell. After they were done, Merlin actually paid extra just to hold Arthur.

He would talk to Arthur, with Arthur barely saying anything, about his hopes for his future. He was sweet and kind and honest. When Merlin told Arthur he wanted to take him away from this, Arthur didn’t understand how he could be real. 

Initially, Arthur turned Merlin down, but Merlin kept coming back. This was the fifth time he’d asked. Arthur finally looked up into Merlin’s eyes and realized that he was truly sincere and for the first time in his life, Arthur started to hope.

* * *

**34.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwaine/Percival  
 **Warnings:** Past character death, grieving, underage drinking (not in sexual situations, Gwaine is underage only in the first scene)

The first time Gwaine gets drunk, it’s on his father’s whisky.

What’s left of it, at least.

He downs the bottle and then looks down the throat. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to find there. He only sees a couple of drops left at the bottom, and the only thing he can think about is how they are the perfect depiction of how he feels.

His mother cries when she finds him.

x

The second time he gets drunk, he’s the one crying. That's all he remembers in the morning.

Elena stirrs next to him and wakes up soon after he has. He doesn't know how she ended up there, doesn't know what to expect, and isn't quite sure how to react when she lays her head on his shoulder and puts an arm over his chest. He feels nauseous and sticky and gross, but he doesn’t move away.

"What did I tell you?" Gwaine asks after a while.

Elena takes a deep breath, then releases. "It wasn’t your fault," she says.

Gwaine closes his eyes. He remembers the day - the fight and the police and the call home and the telling little slur in his father’s voice when he said he was _Coming over there_ and - and the bile in his throat threatens to make a mess of them both.

“It is my fault,” he manages to whisper.

Elena only holds him closer.

x

What he expects to be the third time turns into something entirely different.

He’s ready to protest when Elena grabs the drink from under his nose, but then he turns around and sees the man standing next to her.

“My new friend wants to dance with you,” she says with a smile. She winks and goes away, leaving Gwaine to stare at the stranger.

“I didn’t say anything about dancing,” the man says. His little smile is almost far too adorable for someone his size. “I’m Percy.”

“Gwaine,” he replies and shakes Percy’s hand. He pats the stool next to his and Percy sits.

“Can I get you another drink?” Percy asks. 

Gwaine thinks about it for a second, but then refuses. He feels he’d rather not forget this time around.

x

“Percival.”

The whisper gets Gwaine a groan in response. He laughs.

“Don’t,” Percy says, then lets out a little moan when Gwaine pushes his fingers deeper inside of him.

“Sorry,” Gwaine says and presses a small kiss to Percy’s inner thigh. He moves up to his cock and abdomen and kisses him all over, moans at the way it makes Percy clench around his fingers and ask for more. He wonders if someone’s ever taken the time to be like this with Percival before, listen for his little cues and follow them until he trembles.

“I really love your name, you know,” he says after a while.

“It’s not the sexiest name in the universe,” Percy mumbles.

“I happen to find it really sexy,” Gwaine says. He lets Percy wraps his legs around his waist as he sinks into him. “A gorgeous name for a gorgeous man.”

“Gwaine,” Percy whines and hides his face under his forearm. 

The ache Gwaine feels at the sight is far too familiar. But it’s different, getting to witness the struggle that is loving any little bit of yourself from the other end.

He leans down to press a kiss to Percy’s chest and Percy immediately pulls him closer. 

“Please, Gwaine, I...”

Gwaine thrusts into him lets himself get drunk on Percy’s moans, on the way Percy clings to him harder after every praise that slips off Gwaine’s lips.

When Percy dozes off later, still holding Gwaine in his arms, Gwaine dares hope. 

Maybe it _is_ none of their fault. Maybe one day they could love each other without needing the other to hold them together.

* * *

**35.**

**Pairing(s):** Vivian/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** Several mentioned character deaths

Three would be Vivian’s unlucky number, had she not been born lucky.

She would always get sick if she ate three apples; if she spent enough time surrounded by exactly two other people, wine would inexplicably end up all over her robes, in spite of her grace, or some fool would accidentally throw a knife at her – and be thrown in the dungeons – or she would trip and fall into a table on the third dance. 

Certainly her third suitor was the most annoying of all.

She was three months old when her mother died; three years old when a maid hissed at her she was a spoilt brat, and no wonder her mother had given up so soon.

Vivian had decided right then and there, stomping her tiny feet, that she was never going to listen to anyone ever again.

So when she was thrown off her horse on her third ride and almost drowned on her third swim, she made a point out of doing everything three times; she was certainly not going to let such a small number get the better of her. 

*

The third time she fell in love was rather unexpected. One moment, she felt quite clearly that he was a fool, and the next, her eyes were opened and he seemed to walk the halls surrounded by a golden halo. 

She had never been in love with a man, hadn’t thought it possible, but such a tiny detail wouldn’t sway Vivian from her path. 

She made it her mission to convince her father to let her go back, and at last, he relented. He tried to feed her some story about Arthur being dead, but she knew it couldn’t be true. Vivian wanted Arthur, and she always got what she wanted, in the end.

*

The Queen refused to let her see Arthur, told her the same story her father had. Vivian could see right through her, and insisted on staying.

“Very well,” Gwen said, looking like she was carrying the weight of the kingdom around. Honestly, some people did not know the meaning of the word “fun”.

Vivian got bored on the third day; it wasn’t quite clear whether this was unlucky for her or for everyone else, for her boredom pushed her to seek out anyone who might know the king, and yell at them, at length. This usually worked a charm. 

Gwen said, “I really do feel sorry for you”, then very politely asked her to leave. Vivian did not dignify that with a response. 

*

When shouting and insulting didn’t work – she tried it out for some time to be very sure – she didn’t give up.

“You look very tired, my queen,” she said, one evening.

“I’m sorry, do you think we could do this a different time? Only I have a kingdom to run.” Gwen tried to get away from her – again – but Vivian smiled her gentlest smile.

“Of course, your majesty, I understand. I just want to help you relax. Don’t you ever feel lonely, with Arthur gone?” Vivian could play along, just for a little bit.

Gwen blinked at her, wary. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I too know loneliness. Perhaps we could keep each other company?”

Gwen was too polite to say no.

It turned out she was too polite to say no when Vivian kissed her, too, gasping a little in surprise, frowning; Vivian kissed the frown away. “Let me take care of you,” Vivian said, because that’s what Dee, her maid, always said to her. Perhaps Vivian should organise a better maid for Gwen, too, because she looked a curious mix of exhausted and wondering when Vivian lifted her skirts.

There was nothing polite about the way she licked Gwen’s cunt. Gwen smelled delightful; perhaps she smelled a little like Arthur, Vivian thought, and ate her out hungrily. Mostly, she tasted like a woman. Gwen was quiet for a long time, but Vivian could feel the tremor build; Gwen moaned and dug her fingers into the sheets before coming, riding up into Vivian’s mouth, chasing her pleasure. After, she looked at Vivian with something like wonder.

Vivian smirked. “See, I knew we would become fast friends. We’re going to be so happy together, the three of us, don’t you think? So when is Arthur coming back?” 

Gwen sighed, slumping back, and held her gently when she curled into Gwen’s arms. 

Vivian felt content. 

She was finally going to make three her lucky number.

* * *

**36.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Perversion of childhood joys

"Merlin," Arthur said, "What on earth are you doing?"

Merlin looked up. "Washing your feet, what does it look like I'm doing?" He held up the wash cloth as if to prove his point.

Arthur scooted back in the tub, sloshing the water about. "You were… wiggling… my toes."

Merlin blinked. "Well, yes. This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home."

Arthur stared at him. "What are you going on about?"

"You know! The little piggies," Merlin said, as if that explained anything at all.

"What piggies? You're giving me a bath, not rabbiting on about swine."

Now it was Merlin's turn to stare. "Did nobody ever do 'This little piggy' on your toes, Arthur?"

"Clearly not," Arthur said. "Whatever ridiculous peasant thing you're talking about. My feet are not 'piggies,'"

Merlin took hold of one of Arthur's feet again. "This is how you do it. 'This little piggy went to market," he said, wiggling one toe, "and this little piggy stayed home."

Arthur scoffed.

"This little piggy ate roast beef," Merlin continued, "And this little piggy had none. And this little piggy went 'wee wee wee,' all the way home." With that, he kissed the littlest toe, and put Arthur's foot down.

As they curled into bed, Arthur leaned to kiss Merlin, just behind his ear.

“I think I need a reminder,” he murmured.

“Of what?” Merlin asked.

“The bit about the pigs. What was it?”

Merlin took his hand before saying, “This little piggy went to market...” and going through, finger by finger, to lay a kiss on his pinky. “But you should only do it on toes.”

“Of course,” Arthur said. “Though while I'm learning I should practice as much as I can.”

“Mm,” Merlin agreed. “First knight's got to be good at everything, hasn't he?”

“So lay back and let me practice,” Arthur said. He scooted over Merlin to push him onto his back.

“Now,” he said. “This little piggy,” and he kissed one ear, “went to market.” He licked the edge, nibbled the lobe, sucked it into his mouth to make Merlin gasp.

“This had better not be a lead-in to a terrible sow's ear joke,” Merlin said, and Arthur only delved his tongue into Merlin's ear, making Merlin's cock harden against his leg.

“Of course not,” Arthur said. “Now what came next?”

“Stayed home.”

“This little piggy stayed home,” Arthur corrected, and went to work on Merlin's nipples. Merlin buried his hands in Arthur's hair, yanked at it to hear Arthur's gasp of pleasure/pain.

Finally Arthur pulled back. “Next?”

“-Ate, oh Arthur really?”

“What was it?” Arthur asked, all false innocence.

“Ate roast beef, and you know it you prat.” Merlin said.

“That's right. This little piggy ate roast beef,”Arthur said, and with a shit-eating grin, inched downwards.

“Arthur, you giant cocksucker, only you would turn nursery rhymes into a- oooh- a blowjob, dear god don't stop.”

“It's all for the learning process,” Arthur insisted, but Merlin grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back down.

“Back to the roast beef,” Merlin said. “Yes, like that,” and he pushed his hips forward, holding Arthur's head to fuck his mouth. Arthur gasped around Merlin's cock, almost gagged on it, drooled until Merlin's balls were wet. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were flushed, and perverse use of childhood memories or not, Merlin had never seen anything so hot as Arthur's lips tight around his cock.

He came harder than all ten piggies combined, and through the haze he saw streaks of white on Arthur's face, dripping from his lips, on his fingers as he milked him through the end of his orgasm.

“So,” said Arthur a few minutes later, “which little piggy stayed home?”

* * *

**37.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin/Percival  
 **Warnings:** Spitroasting, aspersions cast on the driving ability of Pastor Maldonado, unsafe sex (although everyone involved is in a loving consensual relationship so let's assume they had the condoms talk already).

_\- fucking Maldonado clipped me, he clipped me at Rascasse -_

_We'll look into it, Arthur, keep pushing, keep pushing, damage is minimal, you still have one lap to go._

_I won't make it boys. We've lost it._

_We're still in line for a podium, keep pushing -_

Everyone else is still at the afterparty, but Arthur opens his hotel door and breathes a brief sigh of relief. No more post-mortem for the evening. He can just go to bed and forget that he had pole position at Monaco for the first time ever and led the race, was purple in every sector - and came third because one of the back markers couldn't obey the fucking blue flags. 

Yeah, he can definitely forget that. 

But when he gets inside the bedside lights are on. And waiting on the bed are his race engineer and front jack man. A.k.a. Merlin and Percy. His … friends, according to the tabloids.

'C'mere,' says Merlin, beckoning. 

'I don't wanna talk about it.'

'We figured,' Percy rumbles. 'We're not here to talk.' He smiles, and pulls Arthur onto his lap as soon as he's within arm's reach.

'We're gonna have a little race of our own,' Merlin croons into Arthur's ear, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, 'and this time, you're gonna come first.'

Arthur would groan at the awful joke, but it's 3am and he's tired and the feeling of fingers on his skin and Percy's cock under him is too good for complaints. He sags back and lets them undress him, lets Percy tip him forward onto his hands and knees, feeling hot and lazy under Percy's touch. He gets so wide-open, when Percy's pushing his tongue in sloppy like this, he aches and it takes his mind off everywhere else that hurts post-race, body and mind. 

Merlin pulling out his cock gets him to look up. 'There you are,' Merlin says, smiling softly. 'I've got something for you.' Arthur focuses muzzily. Hungrily. 'Yeah,' Merlin murmurs. He stands up, lets his jeans fall. Arthur noses forward, and Merlin catches him by the hinge of his jaw, feeds him his cock. 

Arthur softens his mouth and lets that velvet weight slide in, overwhelm him. His eyes roll back. Behind him Percy lets go with a wet, smacking noise. The mattress shifts. Merlin takes a firmer hold of Arthur, both hands, cupping his face and coaxing him to stay put, let Merlin fuck his mouth. And god, but it makes everything in Arthur surrender, belly down into the expensive sheets, ready. Engineered for this. 

'Steady,' says Percy behind him, in his low, gentle growl, and then it's blunt pressure at Arthur's hole. He has to breathe through his nose; wait, poised, knowing exactly what's about to happen and be ready to go with it. 

Percy's big. Percy's day job is to stand in front of a roaring F1 car and stop it in its tracks, and he stops Arthur in his tracks too, takes his weight, pushes into him. Arthur's knees spread unbidden, fighting to give Percy space, to let him take the advantage here, and Merlin slows his strokes until Arthur's numb with it, fucked from both ends, lit up like the Abu Dhabi circuit, nothing but bright lights and speed. 

They fuck him while he's moaning, high performance, perfect balance. The perfect athlete. He's fighting the hold Merlin has on him to get _more_ at the same time as he's trying to fuck back on Percy. They get the hint. Merlin pulls him in until Arthur's nose is flush with Merlin's belly and the sparse, wiry hair there, and Percy grunts and fucks him, harder and harder, until Arthur's panting and whining and coming, gasping for air as his cock jerks, finding release at that red-line limit he was born to toe.

He's a sweaty mess, as Merlin pulls free, lets him sag to the mattress, stroking himself until he comes over Arthur's upturned face. Arthur feels himself stir a little as the hot splashes fall. Then Percy comes in his arse a moment later, enormous dick twitching and god, even this fucked out Arthur could go again in half a moment, he'd swear, the feeling of Percy's come slicking the way as he pulls out. 

They clean him up, his pit crew. And as the Monaco lights turn from neon to dawn-pink, Arthur sleeps.

* * *

**38.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin, Merlin/other  
 **Warnings:** Spanking, derogatory language, swearing, physical violence, light D/s.

The first time Arthur saw Merlin getting spanked was when he stayed with the Emrys family over the summer when he was 12. He peeped in through the kitchen door at Merlin’s bare bottom where he was lying over his mum’s lap. Three strikes, and then it was all over. As Merlin pulled his trousers back up, Arthur saw him wipe away a tear as his mother gently admonished him for whatever he’d done wrong. She then gave him a hug and went back to cooking dinner. Merlin didn’t mention it later, and Arthur never dared bring it up.

\---

The second time was in uni, when Arthur walked in on Merlin being spanked by his latest hook-up. When he opened the door the first thing he heard was a deep, slow moan. Rosy red and shining with sweat, Merlin’s arse was positioned so Arthur got the full view of it. The guy with Merlin across his lap just grinned widely and winked -- _winked!_ \-- at him. Arthur stood frozen for a few seconds too many before he managed to slam the door shut and run. He could hear Merlin shout something from inside the room, but didn’t stop to listen. 

Ten minutes later, he had taken refuge in a toilet stall near the campus library where he stayed for almost a full hour, confused and angry as hell. He didn’t want to know why he felt sick to his stomach, or why he had had that second of intense arousal as he had seen... No. No. Don’t think about it. Merlin’s his mate. They’ve known each other forever.

But Merlin’s bare, red arse had looked amazing, and the noise he had made... Swearing at the world at large and Merlin in particular, Arthur unbuttoned his trousers, stuck his hand in his pants and jerked off with no finesse at all. He came with a stuttering “f-f-fuck!” Afterwards, he leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and wished the ground would just swallow him whole.

But it didn’t, and the more he thought about the entire thing, the angrier he got, and the angrier he got, the more he wanted to shout and rave at Merlin for dragging home some unknown fucking _whore_ to _their_ room. _His_ room. _His_ Merlin.

Merlin was awake when he got back, even though it was after midnight. 

“Arthur...”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Merlin’s expression immediately changed from tired to defensive. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You-- Who the fuck was that?! Do you have to fuck the first long-haired freak that smiles at you? And why the fuck did you pick _that_ guy? He must be, like, ten years older than us!”

“Three years older, thank you very much.”

“Why the fuck would I care?!”

“Well, you clearly do!”

Arthur shoved him and Merlin let out a small “oof!” as his back hit the wall. He made a face as if it had hurt, but Arthur was angry enough to not care.

“You’re such a fucking slag, Merlin. You fuck everything that moves, don’t you?”

Arthur didn’t see the fist, and didn’t feel it until seconds after it had already connected with his nose. Merlin wasn’t big, but he was ferocious and not half-bad at fighting. Stumbling backwards, Arthur sat down on Merlin’s bed and touched his nose gingerly. It was bleeding.

“You’re a fucking dick,” Merlin said shakily and handed him a kitchen roll.

“Yeah,” Arthur conceded. He felt eerily calm, all of a sudden.

They sat quietly while Arthur tried to stem the blood flow.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Arthur looked up. “Tell you what?”

“That you want me.”

“I don’t--”

Merlin laughed softly. “Oh, please. You’ve ‘sneakily’ watched me undress for months. Will it make it easier if I tell you I want you too?”

Arthur swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me, then?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to get it. To do something.” Merlin shrugged, but looked a bit sheepish. “Plus, you’re a fucking dick, if you didn’t know.”

Arthur smiled.

\---

The third time Arthur saw Merlin getting spanked was in their dorm room. Arthur held down a writhing Merlin as he rubbed the blushing, sore arse cheek he’d just struck. He felt giddy with his new power, and bent down to bite and lick at the rosy skin.

“Ah! Arthur!”

“Yes?”

“Don’t– Ah, please, just...”

Arthur pinched him then, made him squirm even more. “Don’t worry. I will.”

* * *

**39.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwaine/Morgana, Gwaine/Arthur, Gwaine/Uther  
 **Warnings:** Underage, Age Difference

The first time, Gwaine was 14.

Morgana was older, thought her little brother’s friend was cute and entertained herself by ridding him of that pesky virginity thing.

Uther Pendragon had found out, marched him into his study half-dressed and still half-hard. “You’re underage. Stay away from my daughter.”

And then he’d caned him hard across the buttocks. Nobody had ever disciplined Gwaine, and when he brought himself off in the bathroom afterwards he wasn’t thinking of Morgana.

The second time, Gwaine was 16. 

He and Arthur had been experimenting in the summerhouse. Arthur’s arse was good and tight and they’d both been too loud.

“Stay away from my children,” Uther told him. He had the cane in his hands and Gwaine knew what was coming.

It was him, minutes later in the same bathroom, working his cock before the delicious sting of the blow had subsided. God, there was nothing hotter than the power of Arthur’s father. 

The third time, Gwaine was 18. 

He was restless, trying fruitlessly to satisfy his cravings. Perce had been strong enough to hurt with the belt Gwaine begged him to use, but too sweet-natured to be convincing.

Gwaine got drunk and went looking for Arthur. But Arthur wasn’t home, and Gwaine threw up in Uther’s flowerbed then fell asleep on the porch. Uther found him, demanded he clean up then come to his study. 

“Discipline,” Uther told him. “That’s what you need.”

There was something about the way Uther said it, the way the word rolled off his tongue like warm honey. Gwaine couldn’t quite supress a shiver. 

“I have needs,” Gwaine whispered. Nobody was adventurous enough, hungry enough for him. Depraved enough, Perce had said, but it didn’t feel like a depravity.

Uther looked him in the eye. Calm, controlled. Older, experienced. 

“I’ve noticed.”

Gwaine could see the cane lying on a shelf behind Uther’s desk, tantalising him. There were shutters on the windows. Those hooks in the ceiling…

God, Arthur’s father, how hot and wrong would that be? 

The cane suddenly smashed down on the desk in front of him, and Gwaine nearly jumped out of his skin. That man could hit hard, like he meant it. 

“Listen when I’m speaking to you!”

Gwaine swallowed, feeling himself harden. 

“Are you listening now?”

Gwaine nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Good. Clarity. Clarity and discipline, two things you’re sorely lacking.” The cane struck the desk again. Gwaine’s vision blurred just a little at the thought of that thing striking him instead. He leaned forward, trying to steady his breathing.

“That’s what I need,” he said earnestly. 

Uther said nothing, probably wary of a trap. But Gwaine knew he wasn’t the only one looking for satisfaction that no so-called normal person would provide.

“People don’t like when I ask for something they think’s wrong.”

“Like what?” Uther was still impassive. 

“This.” Gwaine reached out and stroked the cane lovingly. “It’s a thing of beauty.”

“Indeed.”

“I’d love to feel what it can do.”

“What else?”

Gwaine could see Uther’s eyes starting to darken with lust. Interested then. “Someone who’d take me… maybe tie me over that desk…use this…” he smacked his hand with the cane, never taking his eyes from Uther’s. “ _Discipline_ me. Then, when I’m hurting really good, fuck me hard. I’d feel it for days after.”

“Tame,” Uther commented. Too coldly. Gwaine could see the interest there.

“Teach me then. Please… I’ll do anything.”

Uther gazed at him for a moment, then walked towards the door. Gwaine’s heart sank, until a bolt slid across, the shutters closed, a drawer opened. 

“Undress.” Uther handed a bottle of lube over. “Prepare yourself, I won’t be gentle.” 

He watched uninterestedly as Gwaine did as he was bid. “Now, bend over the desk.” 

Gwaine rubbed himself against the desk, trying to get some friction. 

“Come on my desk and you’ll suffer,” Uther warned. 

“Do it,” Gwaine urged. 

Uther grabbed hold of Gwaine’s hair and tugged his head back painfully. “ _Never_ tell me what to do.”

Gwaine moaned at the command. Uther had the cane out, stroking it over Gwaine’s buttocks. Suddenly, there was a whack, and an exquisite stinging across his backside. Once, twice and then a pause. He could feel a gloved hand caress his balls, then a hard smack, stinging right down his crack. 

Gwaine groaned at the pain, thrust desperately, and came hard over the antique walnut. 

There was a long silence.

“Well,” Uther sighed, opening another drawer. “I did warn you…”

* * *

**40.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Gwaine  
 **Warnings:** ...voyeuristic cupids? ...cupid sex...?

Well. This was quite unexpected. Gwaine was fully expecting his first job as cupid to be difficult. He’d come prepared to spend a good week or two in Camelot in order to make the two to fall in love.

But, as he watched the wizard—Merlin—lower himself on the royal cock, he realised that his job had already been done for him. He wondered if he had been accidentally sent to the wrong couple, because Merlin and Arthur were quite obviously already in love.

Gwaine decided to stay and watch for some more time, just to make sure. He just wanted to make sure that they definitely didn’t his help, and then he’d go back. He had planned on staying a week after all. His decision to stay was definitely not influenced by the fact that this was one of the hottest things he’d ever laid his eyes on. Not at all. He was a professional cupid now.

Merlin’s head was tilted to the right, his eyes impossibly blue as Arthur bit and sucked at his neck. Gwaine licked his lips, imagining the taste of Merlin’s skin. And—and then he frowned. Merlin was looking right at him. Gwaine moved a few inches to his right. Merlin’s eyes followed him.

Gwaine narrowed his eyes at Merlin, who blinked a few times, and then his eyes pointedly darted down to the tent in the flimsy cloth that he wore around his waist. Gwaine flushed, just slightly at the ravenous look in Merlin’s eyes. He was a cupid and engaging with humans—sexually or not—was greatly frowned upon. But, Gwaine tried to reason with himself, Merlin was sitting right there on Arthur’s cock and making such delicious noises… it really wasn’t Gwaine’s fault that his cock had taken interest. Not his fault at all.

“Can you see me?” Gwaine asked. Mortals weren’t supposed to see him, but he supposed Merlin wasn’t exactly a mortal. Merlin just gave a slight nod, his lips parting as Arthur started thrusting up to meet his downward thrusts. Gwaine’s cock twitched and he gave in to the urge and dropped back into a chair. He leaned back and parted his thighs, thoroughly enjoying the way Merlin’s eyes darted to the place between his legs and stayed there.

Gwaine made a show of grabbing his cock through the bright red fabric and moaned. He watched, smug, as Merlin’s lips parted on a breath, and he licked his lips. God, Gwaine wanted those lips on him. He slid his hand under the cloth and curled a tight fist around himself. He smiled lazily, imagined those plump lips on his cock as he fucked his fist.

Merlin watched for a few seconds, breathless, and then Merlin reached back and brought Arthur’s hand up to his lips, his eyes not leaving Gwaine’s, and took two fingers in his mouth, wrapped his lips around them and sucked hard, and that obscene sight was quite enough to make him come.

*

Later, he watched them both snuggle close to each other on the bed, and wondered why they’d thought to send a cupid for these two. These two obviously didn’t need one.

* * *

**41.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Canon-compliant character death

_Three Kisses_

Arthur tumbles Merlin to the ground with a clatter of borrowed weaponry and the crunch of late autumn leaves. Before Merlin can recover, he tumbles himself atop Merlin, breathless with laughter. 

"You really are hopeless," Arthur says, but his words are neither sharp nor cruel. "Maybe the sword isn't your weapon."

"I can defend myself, you know." Merlin tries to wriggle free, then stills and raises his head to let Arthur draw his helmet off. "Just not with sharp, pointy things." 

"Hm. I guess a dagger is out of the question, then." Arthur inches his body up Merlin's, so their noses touch, and he smiles. "What about a mace? A flail?" 

"Arthur, no!" Merlin laughs when Arthur leans away to reach for another of his weapons. He tugs Arthur back, glad to feel Arthur's breath come hot and short against his neck, and for the snug press of Arthur's leg between his own. 

Arthur makes a small, soft 'oh' sound, and turns to brush his nose over Merlin's again. He touches his lips to Merlin, so lightly it's barely even a touch, and then leans in to do it once more. When they kiss, it's a murmur of lips against each other, and Arthur sighs when Merlin leans up closer to him to deepen in. 

Merlin reaches up to touch Arthur's hair; he frowns when Arthur has to pull away when distant voices break the quiet of crisp, chilly morning. 

"Not yet," Arthur says, "but soon, I promise." 

*

Merlin hovers at the edge of the court after the king dies. Arthur's coronation must follow quickly upon Uther's funeral, lest either Arthur or his kingdom appear vulnerable. Control is concentrated at the center of the court; control and power, and Merlin has access to both only through Arthur. 

Yet, here at the edge of the throne room, in the alcoves and cloisters, is where control, power, and certainty begin to fray. Whispered doubts among courtiers, and the worry that breeds alongside fear. 

Though he cannot save Arthur from any of this, Merlin is determined to protect him from the worst of it, at least until his grief settles. 

He walks Arthur from the throne room to the royal apartments, silent and attentive, and when Arthur withdraws into his private rooms, Merlin does, too. Arthur stays silent, however, even after he's changed into his evening clothes and has had dinner set before him. Wine only seems to make him more despondent, and his eyes look dull with sadness. 

"Everything will change," Arthur says. He touches Merlin's hand, pulls him down to sit next to him before the fire. 

"Not everything." Merlin keeps Arthur's hand in his own, held tight between both palms. 

"Can you promise me that?"

Arthur's eyes gleam with sudden need. He doesn't wait for Merlin to answer, but frees his hand to cup Merlin's cheek, to pull him closer until their foreheads rest against each other. "Can you? Will you promise me?"

"I will. I give you my word." 

If Arthur wants promises with his kisses, then Merlin will promise him the world, he will promise Arthur all that man and magic can accomplish to keep his king safe. He parts his lips as Arthur kisses him, and returns the kisses with such gentle precision that it is not long before Arthur is arching into them. 

Merlin breaks away, and the need that brightened Arthur's eyes has become sharp, urgent. He mutters half-broken pleas against Merlin's neck, asks Merlin to touch him, begs Merlin to keep touching him, to put his hands over his arms and chest and to press slow and steady against his hardness. 

They sleep curled up around each other in the center of the king' bed, buried beneath blankets and the breathless vows they make against each other's skin.

*

Merlin touches the tips of his fingers to Arthur's eyelids and to his mouth, keeps his touch tender, remembers how he used to touch Arthur while he slept so at not to wake him. 

"Promise me," he says as he rests his hand on Arthur's forehead, "promise me that I will not have to wait longer than I can bear. Promise me you'll come home," he says. 

There is no reply, and Arthur's lips are cool and still beneath his own, but in his heart Merlin can hear Arthur's wordless promise to return to him.

* * *

**42.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** No warning, but diphallia is a real thing. Google is your friend!

It's been said, according to the castle gossips, that the prince is, to put it delicately, well-endowed.

Nothing concrete, no actual accounts, just the smirk of the chambermaiden who walked into his quarters early one morning.

The tailor only rolls his eyes and hurries away when asked.

Merlin, of course, is a complete dead end.

\---

"Why does everyone keep asking me about Arthur's dick?" Merlin hisses to Gwen one summer morning. "Really?!"

Gwen shoots him a look. "No one's seen it, you see. Not his former footman, no scullery maids, no one."

Merlin blinks hard at her. "Are the winters that long here?"

Gwen shakes her head. "You've never noticed the bulge? The way he walks after a bawdy song? You've really never seen it?"

"No," Merlin says firmly. "Why would I have seen it?" 

Gwen just shakes her head at him.

\---

Arthur is secretive about his cock. He only changed behind a screen, always wore a towel, and went far into the woods to piss on their camping trips.

He's shy. Merlin just can't figure out _why_.

He thinks about what Arthur could be concealing, at night mostly, his door locked.

But less so when he's with Arthur, especially during their nightly talks on Arthur's bed. There he's more interested in the way the candlelight plays across Arthur's collarbones under his loose collar.

One balmy night, Arthur kisses him, almost gently. Merlin can't help but push forward, squeezing Arthur's thigh and kissing him harder. Arthur moans as his jerking hips send him grinding into Merlin, so Merlin doesn't understand why he pulls away so fast when he goes for Arthur's breeches.

Arthur is panting, red. "I'm- Sorry. It's just- I'm-"

"Shy?"

Arthur closes his eyes. "No," he says. "I was born of magic. Things are... different. For me."

Merlin frowns. "Different?" he starts, but Arthur simply undoes his breeches and pulls out two cocks. Two.

Arthur has two dicks. Fuck.

Turns out Arthur has a great reason for being shy. He has two dicks. And Merlin wants to touch them. 

\---

Arthur doesn't let him. He kicks Merlin out instead, sending him to wander the corridors, bewildered.

Merlin returns the next day, determined to apologize, but he stops short before he can.

Arthur's in bed, knees splayed under the sheets, clearly jerking off beneath them.

Merlin starts to leave, but Arthur's eyes meet his and he takes a breath.

"Can I watch?" It comes out hurried, but Arthur rolls his eyes and nods, kicking at the sheets to reveal him jerking his right cock with a loose fist.

Merlin sits down gingerly at the end of Arthur's bed, getting a full view of Arthur's multi-cocked glory.

They're both rather short, and red with Arthur's arousal, of course, but there's _two_ of them, veiny and a bit wrinkled. As Merlin's watching, both of them simultaneously blurt out drops of pre-come.

Merlin sucks in a breath, eyes darting up. Arthur is watching him.

"Does it feel good when you do both of them?"

Arthur licks his lips. "Yes."

"Do you want a-"

"Yes." 

It's silky under Merlin's palm, and he stops to thumb at Arthur's foreskin before setting a pace to match Arthur's hand.

Arthur groans. He's panting when Merlin looks up and Merlin has to kiss him, soft, but Arthur pulls him closer, moans as Merlin flicks his wrist.

Their fingers bump together as they speed up and Merlin can't help rutting at Arthur's hip, whimpering.

Arthur shushes him, then his free hand is working at Merlin's laces before pulling Merlin's cock free. Merlin's confused, but Arthur pulls him on top, so he's straddling him, then- oh god- lines their cocks up together.

Merlin's cock is nestled between Arthur's, then Arthur wraps his hand around them, and Merlin can't bite back his frantic whine. His hand joins Arthur's, and between the two of them they can start stroking. The drag of skin is tortuously good. Merlin can't help the little thrusts forward, pressing their balls together, dick sliding in the pre-come.

Shudders rack his body as he comes over Arthur's stomach, face tilted down to watch as Arthur finishes himself.

The right dick jerks first, and Arthur groans as come shoots out of both cocks, mixing with Merlin's mess.

It's amazing and Merlin has to kiss Arthur to keep the silly grin off his face. Arthur kisses him back, but is frowning when he pulls away.

"Father said I was an abomination, a freak of magic."

Merlin shakes his head, smiling. "You're perfect."

* * *

**43.**

**Pairing(s):** Leon/Mordred/Percival  
 **Warnings:** daddy kink, family-friendly threesome (in a way?)

Percy glanced at the calendar. “Your birthday is coming up,” he announced, “Is there anything you’d like in particular?”

“A sugar daddy,” Mordred replied. His attention was invested in washing the last of the mugs; he always had the unpleasant feeling that his hand would either get stuck or shatter the material with his knuckles. Percy didn’t quip back. Mordred turned his head to the side where Percy was leaning against the counter, looking at him over the rim of his mug. “I’m joking, of course.” Mordred laughed. “You spoil me enough as it is.”

“Sure I do,” Percy hummed. He bowed down to leave a kiss on Mordred’s cheek and his mug in the sink.

* * *

“Leon! Percy didn’t tell me you were coming over.” Mordred’s voice rose enough to form a question by the end but somehow he failed to look at his husband. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Leon; yet he didn’t know where to look. His brain registered slivers of information (tight shirt, rolled sleeves, deep neck, long jeans, barefoot), but the awareness that he was staring forced him to finally meet Leon’s eyes.

“Happy birthday, Mordred.” Leon smiled. He didn’t seem at all perturbed at the scrutiny he had just undergone. Then again, everyone agreed Leon’s smile was impossible to resist; people mass-admitted to plain wanting to cuddle him and recharge on positivity. He was used to it?

He pushed his chair back and turned his body towards Mordred, swinging one leg further from the other, opening his lap. He patted his thigh and his smile got a little wider, and his eyes twinkled. “Come and let me take a look at you.”

Mordred shot a glance at Percy, but all he got from his husband was a supportive hand gesture towards Leon’s lap. Percy looked… Well, if Mordred didn’t know him better he’d think he looked excited.

Painfully aware of how his baggy clothes swayed around his limbs, Mordred crossed the kitchen and gingerly raised himself on his toes to place his ass in Leon’s lap. Leon took a firm grip of him and pulled him up and into a comfortable position; every touch and stroke of his hands left a trail on Mordred’s skin even through the sweater and track pants.

“Percy tells me you’ve behaved?” Leon murmured in Mordred’s ear. His lips brushed against Mordred’s earlobe, and the hairs of his moustache prickled the skin. Mordred shuddered, but it was a pleasant feeling; he wished Leon would continue whispering. He rocked his pelvis to the sides, making himself comfortable onto the other man.

“Yes.” A silence stretched. Mordred turned his head – there was something familiar about this – and looked Leon in the eyes. “Yes… daddy,” he murmured, and put his hands around Leon’s neck.

Leon nuzzled his face In Mordred’s exposed neck; Mordred could feel his smile. “Good,” Leon murmured against his skin, his breath warming the skin and sending a small wave of warmth all over Mordred. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“Yes, daddy, I’ve been _very_ good,” Mordred repeated, this time more confident. He stretched his leg and pressed a toe against the floor to lift his pelvis, just enough to shift and rub his ass against Leon’s cock. It hardened immediately, and pressed into the cleft of Mordred’s ass even through the thick material of the jeans. The pressure sent slow, lazy waves of arousal through Mordred’s body. He became hyperaware of his own skin, of the placed he wanted to be touched and kissed. His cock throbbed and rose; the tip brushed against his underwear and made him groan.

Leon chuckled against Mordred’s neck. “Percy. Come and suck your hubby’s cock?” he offered.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Percy laughed. He went around the table and knelt before them. He hooked his fingers into Mordred’s pants and, with a little help from Leon, slid them off Mordred’s legs. And then he wrapped his pretty lips around Mordred’s cock and his mouth, his _hot wet tight slippery_ mouth sucked, and Mordred could only writhe and moan. He slid a palm down the side of Leon’s neck and pressed it against his bare chest, the coarse hairs a nice little change from Percy’s otherwise hairless chest.

“Fuck me,” Mordred muttered, and thrust his hips against Percy’s face.

“Since you ask so nicely,” Leon laughed, and bit Mordred’s earlobe.

* * *


	4. Group D (Warnings)

**44**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Ritual magic, ingestion of cum?

Arthur is used to the strange minutia of having his court sorcerer for a consort. He takes it in stride when Merlin one day declares, "I have a crop fertility rite I want to try; find me three rabbit skulls and some mood lighting."

[](http://imgur.com/q7UEjVl)

* * *

**45**

**Title:** Two is Company, (But) Three’s a Crowd  
**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur Gwen/Morgana Red Dragon/White Dragon  
**Warnings:** Medieval nudity

Something tells me Geoffrey of Monmouth “accidentally” left this page out of his “The History of the Kings of Britain” manuscript.

[](http://imgur.com/6cZw2z1)

* * *

**46**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** D/S undertones

Where Merlin teaches Arthur the importance (and pleasure) of Mathematics. Or basically 2x3=6 and 3x3=9.

[](http://imgur.com/CeD4FjT)

* * *

**47**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Absolute disregard for historical accuracy

Meanwhile, sometime in the 3rd Century, Flavius Artorius Draconicus seduces his pretty new slaveboy from Britannia

[](http://imgur.com/5oZuAS9)

* * *

**48**

**Pairing(s):** Morgana/Gwen/Elena  
**Warnings:** none

"Hmm, which one should we use today...?"

[](http://imgur.com/jeCmKST)

* * *

**49**

**Pairing(s):** Merthur X3  
**Warnings:** Nudity, though rather conservative for the situation! 

In which Merlin comes up with a spell that has Arthur accepting magic a lot sooner! ;)

[](http://imgur.com/HYIu3v7)


	5. Group A (No Warnings)

**1.**

“King Arthur's time has come,” Skuld declared. “As we have foretold, so shall it be.” 

Her golden scissors at the ready, she reached out to pull the young king's life-thread from the complex web of human life.

There were three of them there by the well. Urðr had the past as her domain, Verðandi the present, and Skuld that which was yet to be. They were the Norns of fate, and together they ruled the destinies of both gods and men, - they spun and cut every life's thread.

Skuld studied the thread in her hand. Twined from crimson and golden strands, it was perfectly strong and even. 

“This is strange,” she said. “Didn't we foretell troubles and dangers for the young prince all his adult life? Why is his thread without snarls and knots?”

Urðr shrugged. “It's Emrys's doing. His protective magic frequently defeats the tangles of fate.”

“Oh.”

All three of them glanced at the steely-blue thread that dangled separately from above. With no beginning and no end, Merlin's life-thread could not be cut by any means they possessed. It made them uncomfortable. 

“Well,” Verðandi said briskly. “No time like the present. Do what you have to do, sister.”

Skuld raised her scissors, while Verðandi leaned over to breathe on the calm surface of the water in the well of life. An image appeared. It was the king of Camelot, at this very moment dying in Merlin's arms on the shore of Lake Avalon. The shard from the sword forged in dragon-fire had reached Arthur's heart. 

“Wait,” Urðr said. “The death of a king is a grave matter. Let us honour his life and achievements before cutting the thread.”

The Norns all turned their attention to the well, their faces impassive. Glimpses of Arthur's life started appearing. They saw him overcoming many dangers and foes, always with Merlin at his side. Again and again the two men looked into each other's eyes with love and longing, sharing private, intimate smiles.

“So King Arthur and Emrys are lovers?” Verðandi mused. “Was this foretold?”

“No, and no,” Skuld replied, a hint of regret in her voice. “Although they are deeply in love, neither has admitted as much to the other.”

“Pity,” Urðr sighed. “Imagine the scenes the well might have shown us....”

Skuld arched an eyebrow at her. “Let's not just imagine, sister. Let's rather watch how such an alternate fate would play out.”

She gestured at the water, muttering a brief incantation.

The well's image changed. 

There was flaring dragon-fire as Kilgharrah breathed healing magic across King Arthur, dissolving the metal shard piercing his heart. Merlin's face showed immense joy at the realization that Arthur had been saved. Both Merlin and Arthur looked stunned with disbelief, but then they were embracing, tumbling back on the grass and kissing passionately under the rising sun. Soon they had shed all their clothes, and the three sisters witnessed true love, freely expressed through the joining of two young, healthy bodies.

The images jumped ahead, one deliciously scorching scene following the next, all of them glimpses of a future that would never be, because the Norns had not foretold it.

Arthur was on his back in bed, Merlin riding him with abandon, throwing his head back as his seed spurted across Arthur's chest. Their expressions made the sisters gasp.

Then Arthur was on all fours on a forest floor, Merlin pushing into him, both of them laughing as a unicorn trotted by.

Next, Arthur was naked, stretched out on a stone altar, his erection pointing defiantly skywards. A Merlin covered in nothing but the blue swirls of druidic tattoos prepared to blow him, lips parting hungrily. 

Urðr discreetly mopped her brow. Verðandi fidgeted and fanned her face.

Skuld cleared her throat. “Is it possible that we didn't... take all aspects into consideration when foretelling King Arthur's fate?” 

“I think so!” Urðr squeaked.

“None of us are infallible!” Verðandi yelped. At the offended glares from her sisters, she added; “It's that Emrys! His magic distorts the prophecies. He's always been beyond our control!”

“Good thinking, sister,” Skuld said with approval, letting go of Arthur's still-intact life thread and pocketing her unused pair of scissors. “You're right. I hereby foretell that these visions show the real fate of King Arthur. And it's all Emrys's fault.”

The steely-blue and the golden-red threads immediately started twining together; - becoming one, unbreakable and eternal.

And the Norns turned back eagerly to continue their study of the king's new fate.

* * *

**2.**

_I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought; but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones._ ~ Albert Einstein.

The war that Hollywood and the media had long predicted but very few had truly believed would happen had come. The world was plunged into destruction with no sign of an end. Those that had survived the initial bombs fought on for what little was left.

Merlin was on watch, his rifle held loosely has he scanned the torn up landscape for any sign of movement. His partner was shaking next to him, clutching his own weapon in a death grip.

He was young, not much passed 18 but now deemed old enough to fight. He was terrified but Merlin had no words of comfort. Everything he had loved had been torn away by this war, unspeakable horrors chipping away at him until there was nothing left.

His partner’s breath hitched and Merlin glanced over.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s alright.” Merlin answered even though they both knew it was far from the truth.

“It’s my first watch.” His voice shook and in the moonlight Merlin could see tears drying on his cheeks. 

Merlin wanted to tell him of a better future, one without pain and the constant threat of attack, but couldn’t find the words. “It get’s easier.” 

“I didn’t want to – before – .” He trailed off, still unable to voice his fear of death. “Do you have someone? Special, I mean.” 

“I did.” 

“What happened to them?” 

It had been years before Merlin had given up hope. He’d travelled from camp to camp in search of proof, information, anything. But with every place he reached with no sign of Arthur, the hope had waned a little further. Eventually he’d had to accept the inevitable. “They died.”

His companion fell silent. Merlin’s gaze drew back to focus on the horizon but his thoughts went back to a time before the war. Back to their first weekend away together. 

The plan had been to go hiking, but instead Arthur had pinned his hips to the kitchen table and sucked him off for hours. Merlin had dissolved into a string of moans and pleads to be allowed to come right the fuck now, but Arthur would just take him to the edge and pull back before he was able to find a release. By the time Arthur finally gave in and fucked him, Merlin thought he was going to explode. Arthur had looked smug about that one for _months_. The memory gave Merlin a pang of heartbreak that he didn’t know he could still feel.

As the hours drew on, his companion inched slowly closer. Merlin remembered feeling the way he did, but the years of fighting had caused him to grow so tired that he no longer feared death. Sometimes, Merlin felt that he was just waiting for his time to come.

They were relieved just before dawn. His partner didn’t release his grip on his rifle until they were back inside. Merlin wanted to hope that there would be peace before this war destroyed him too. As it was, there was one thing that Merlin could offer. He put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Mordred.”

“You’ve never been with anyone?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred shook his head.

“Come with me.” Merlin led them back to his bunk. 

Merlin braced himself against the wall as Mordred sank into him with a groan. When Mordred started to move, Merlin closed his eyes and gave himself over to the sensation. The war may have broken his emotions but at least he could find still find physical pleasure and try to forget, if only for a moment. 

He came with Arthur’s name on his lips, in a memory of a better time. He helped clean them both up and then watched as Mordred drifted off, his face calm in sleep. It wasn’t much, but Merlin had offered the boy something. He could only hope that the world would offer more before there was nothing left worth fighting for.

* * *

**3.**

**Title** : Air, Water, Earth

The thing about Will was, he was always in motion. You couldn't pin him down.

They were best friends from the time they could walk, and Merlin always knew that Will had his back. If the other boys in Ealdor tried to gang up on Merlin, Will was there with his hot temper and ready fists to defend him.

His moods were as changeable as the wind, sometimes coming up as fierce as a summer windstorm, sometimes as sweet and balmy as a spring breeze.

Since they were constant companions, it was natural that they would explore their bodies together, lying in the sweetgrass meadow, learning what kinds of touches felt good.

And when one night they went from mutual masturbation to hand jobs and finally blow jobs, it was natural that Will got cold feet about what they were doing.

He danced away like a zephyr.

~O~

Merlin had never tasted anything sweeter than the first kiss he got from Freya.

She seemed pure and ethereal, like the water nymphs in the bedtime stories his mother had told him. She needed him, and more importantly she trusted him.

He wooed her with simple magic tricks and a dress he stole from Morgana. It meant the world to him to be able to make her smile. Her life had been so hard, and for a few hours he had given her hope.

He hadn't intended to make love to her; he had simply gathered her in his arms to give her comfort. But she pulled down the bodice of the silky dress with no self-consciousness, exposing her small pretty breasts, and he kissed her again to reward her for her bravery, and one thing led to another.

There was a little blood but no tears when he pushed inside her.

The tears came from him, when he had to return his nymph to a home in the deep water of the Llyn Llydaw. 

~O~

When he had Arthur spread-eagled on his belly, his plump arse in the air and his thumbs pressing on either side of his pink little hole. Merlin often made him wait for the first lick.

Partly because he enjoyed watching his lover squirm, and partly because he got harder thinking about how Arthur would taste. 

Arthur wouldn't let Merlin rim him unless he had soaked in the tub and scrubbed carefully over that most hidden part. But he still tasted of Camelot, a slight tang of loamy earth under the taste of lavender - infused soap.

The first time Arthur had fucked him, when just the two of them were on a hunting trip in the autumn, it had started with boyish wrestling and ended with Merlin underneath Arthur with his trousers and small clothes shoved halfway down his thighs. 

He hadn’t had much room to move, and after Arthur had roughly loosened him up, he found himself clutching at fallen leaves with his hands as his bottom got thoroughly reamed. When Arthur collapsed on top of him, he found his weight warm and reassuring.

It made him feel safe, and loved.

The scent of rotting leaves and dry earth filled his nostrils, and he remembered that Arthur’s grandfather had had to claim the soil of Camelot inch by precarious inch.

Arthur was grounded in the earth of Camelot. He knew every square foot of his kingdom.

He would die to protect it.

And Merlin would die to protect his King.

* * *

**4.**

The first time Arthur went, he didn’t even get out of his car.

The location was suspicious – just outside of town off one of those exits that line the outer edges of the city that lead out to nowhere. Just the type of location one would expect illegal activities to go down.

The only reason he had decided to take the chance was because he had heard about it from two completely unrelated sources.

And Lord Almighty, was he glad he did.

The turnout was fairly large for this sort of ordeal, and despite it taking place late at night, the full moon gave off enough light to provide quite the show.

All car engines were off, with some men in their vehicles and others out. A few stood off on their own, trousers open with no shame as they polished themselves off watching others. Most of the men were paired up, some wanking side-by-side, others on their knees, eagerly sucking someone down like they had been starving for it. Which, considering where they were, probably stood true.

Arthur got off twice, gathered up his balled up tissues to dispose of later, and drove off, glad that he had, at long last, gotten that out of his system.

The second time Arthur went, he opened up his car door, reclined his seat, and listened to the slap on slap of skin and the soft groans that echoed through the trees.

It wasn’t long before someone took his open door as an invitation and leaned in, replacing his hand with their mouth, teasing him until he was writhing in his seat and gritting his teeth against the noises that were emerging from his throat against his will. Arthur had no idea if it felt this way because he was so repressed or because the guy was just that good.

If he kept his eyes closed, Arthur figured he could at least pretend he was about to cum down a woman’s throat, except the hand palming his balls was too large and the fingers reaching down towards his entrance were too long and rough.

He tried to give some warning that he was about to blow his load, but the response he received was a hissed out, “Yessss” before the man abruptly deep-throated him.

Arthur’s orgasm left him seeing stars.

The third time he went was during the day.

It had been several months since the last time and he had sworn to himself he would never go back again. He had an important life to lead and he couldn’t keep risking it because someone was bound to recognize him sooner or later and yes, there was that unspoken understanding of secrecy, but his was a scandal just waiting to happen.

But right now…right now, it was the only place he could think of escaping to where he could clear his head for a moment before dealing with the world once more.

Surprisingly, the place wasn’t as abandoned as he had expected. There was one bloke leaning against a tree, casually palming himself through his jeans. 

He stopped when Arthur’s car pulled over, but when Arthur made it clear he had no intention of getting out, the man continued on with his business and Arthur proceeded to zone out.

Thirty minutes later had Arthur nearly jumping out of his seat when there was a knock on his window.

“You alright there, mate?” The man continued as soon as the tinted window was rolled down a crack. “It’s just, I was done nearly twenty minutes ago and you haven’t left.”

“Rough day.” Arthur cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I didn’t actually come here to…”

“It’s fine, I get it.” The car lurched a bit as the man turned to lean back against it. “You don’t have to explain yourself here.”

Arthur nodded but didn’t verbally respond.

“Look, I get that it might be hard for someone like you to come out to these meetings—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur snapped in panic. 

The man was silent for a moment. 

“I was the one who blew you last time. I never saw your face,” he quickly reassured, “but I recognized the car.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped. He had even made it a point to choose the most nondescript car from the garage!

“This is pretty forward, but if you ever need to escape again, swing by the mechanic’s station first? Ask for Merlin. And please don’t fire me.”

And with that, the man was off, not even bothering to wait for his response.

* * *

**5.**

It takes three fingers constantly tapping against Merlin’s prostate to turn him into a sobbing, begging mess.

“Please,” Merlin pants, breath hot against Gwaine’s thighs. The blush is high on his fuckable cheekbones. “More,” he pleads, lapping at the rigid flesh of Gwaine’s cock, stiff and hot through his trousers. Precome and saliva soak the cloth and Merlin sucks on it harder.

Hands tied behind his back by his own neckerchief, Merlin can’t do anything but take whatever’s been given to him.

“ _Fuc_ -Oh gods.” Gwaine can’t even say a proper sentence, breath being taken away by how well Merlin can suck cock. He has to brush his hair away from his face so he can better see those wet lips and pink tongue. Mind so hazed with pleasure, Gwaine can barely control his fingers, with a clumsiness that’s unbecoming of a knight, he undoes the laces to his pants. 

Merlin’s breath hitches, blinking in surprised when Gwaine’s cock fall free from the folds of fabric to tap against his cheek, leaving a dribble of milky precome. “More,” Merlin says again, bucking against the fingers fucking him. He takes the head of Gwaine’s cock in his mouth, sucking and licking with his tongue until saliva runs down his chin. 

“Not yet, _Merlin_.” Arthur sucks on the soft swell of Merlin’s bottom, hard enough that a purpling bruise will be visible later on. “What have I said about being patient?” he scolds, stretching Merlin’s hole, watching as the muscle of flesh tightens and flexes around his moving fingers. “If you aren’t good, then I won’t give you anything at all.” 

Merlin whimpers, cock dribbling onto the red bedsheets as his hips hitch at the chiding. He gets off on this, being chided and praised. 

“Don’t listen to the princess, you’re doing such a good job, sweetheart.” Gwaine rolls his eyes, grins as he cards his fingers through Merlin’s hair, pulling him closer until the tip of his cock is in the back of Merlin’s throat. 

Merlin _keens,_ lets out this needy little noise, spreads his legs wider, and wriggles his little bottom like the little harlot he is. 

Arthur spanks him with a ‘tsk’ and Merlin yelps, the sound going straight to Gwaine’s cock.

Snorting in a fond amusement, Arthur resumes licking at Merlin’s hole, lapping at the rim, switching between fucking Merlin with his fingers and tongue. It has Merlin babbling and whining despite having a cock down his throat. 

“ _Arthur,_ ” Gwaine grunts out, sounding close to his orgasm. _“Just fuck him already.”_

“I’m King. I don’t take orders from anyone,” says Arthur haughtily, but he pulls his fingers free, and lines his aching cock to Merlin’s opening. He taps the head of his cock against the rim, drags it along the pleats of slickened flesh. 

Merlin’s hole flutters open and clenches closed. The sight is obscene, but it has Arthur cock dribbling and his balls twinge in pleasure. He slides in so easily, a smooth, long drag, cock reddened and hot against Merlin’s pale flesh. “Merlin,” Arthur grits out, hands coming to grip at the tiny dip of Merlin’s waist. He pulls out, and thrusts back in, groans at the filthy wet squelch. He does it again, fucks Merlin deeper on to Gwaine’s cock. 

There’s a muffled, _“Uhn,”_ as Merlin comes from the mere sensation of being so well stuffed with cock. He shivers, getting the sheets filthy with his spend before going lax and boneless. 

Gwaine’s fucking Merlin’s head with abandon, thrusting into that hot mouth, rubbing his balls against those blowjob lips. When he comes, he grips Merlin’s hair with both hands, tosses his head back, lovely hair fluttering as he spills into Merlin’s mouth with a filthy moan. 

It’s Arthur that comes last, he’s King, and therefore has to last the longest. That’s when Arthur really fucks into him, does so with a ruthlessness that will lead to bruises. He fucks those lovely stuttering _“ah, ah, ah”_ noises out of Merlin. 

He comes with a grunt, spills himself into that tight channel and continues to fuck Merlin a couple more times until it becomes too much and he pulls out, falling next to Merlin and Gwaine in a satisfied heap. 

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, wriggling his still bound fingers. His voice is soft, throat raw from the fucking. “Gwaine.” 

“Sorry, love,” says Gwaine somewhat sheepishly as he frees Merlin. It’s Gwaine that scoops Merlin and Arthur into an embrace as they fall into a sex-sated slumber.

* * *

**6.**

_The first time we met, we hated each other._

''You mind moving over, mate? Your ears are blocking the way.''

Merlin turns and comes face to face with the most gorgeous arsehole he's ever met. Figures. It's just that kind of a party. To add insult to injury, the idiot is grinning at Merlin, inviting him in on the joke, probably thinking it's hilarious.

''Funny,'' Merlin sneers. ''Here I thought it was your exaggerated self-importance you couldn't get past.''

He stomps off, deciding the only way to survive this is by getting spectacularly drunk.

Merlin has no idea how he ends up in a bedroom, rolling around in a pile of cloaks with that same arsehole, their shirts pushed up and their trousers open, rutting their cotton-clad erections against each other, their panting breaths mingling hot and damp between them. He pulls at the bloke’s hair and moans when strong fingers press bruises into his hip before wrapping around his length. When Merlin spurts into his pants, for a moment, everything is glorious.

Then the door opens and a woman's voice asks, ''Arthur? What's happening in here?''

Arthur looks up, fingers still sticky with Merlin's cum, and stutters, ''I... uh... helped him find his car keys.''

Merlin chalks it up to one of those experiences that make you want to stick your head into the toilet bowl the next morning and just forget it ever happened.

_You didn't hate me, I hated you. The second time we met, you didn't even remember me._

The club is one of Merlin's favourites, perfect for cruising, and he already has his sights on the blond grinding his way across the dance floor. His hair is glinting in the flashing lights and, god, that arse in the black leather trousers has Merlin hard already.

It's not until they're under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom that Merlin realises why the man seemed so familiar.

Arthur looks different with his hair spiked up and a hint of kohl around his eyes, but it's definitely him. Merlin doesn't say anything, just pushes Arthur down and opens his pants, watches him take Merlin's fat cock into his mouth and suck him like a pro.

He bends over and holds onto the sink, while Arthur licks him open and then fucks him from behind with hard, forceful thrusts, holding Merlin's eyes in the mirror without ever saying a word.

Merlin goes home with Arthur's cum dripping from his hole, thinking that it's true that you always meet twice.

_I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends._

Merlin nearly drops the wine bottle when he catches sight of Arthur at Gwen's dinner party. He's talking to her new girlfriend, handsome in a light blue shirt.

When Merlin finds him on the veranda later, Arthur gives him an amused look.

''Your date seems to like my date.''

''Oh.'' Merlin blushes. ''Boyfriend, actually. Sorry. Cenred is a bit of a flirt.''

Arthur shrugs. ''Me and Elena are just friends. She only moved here last month. Thought I'd introduce her to some people.''

''That's nice of you.''

''I'm generally a nice guy. You should see me saving kittens and helping old ladies across the street.''

Arthur grins at him, and Merlin blinks, surprised how infectious it is. He realises that he's never seen Arthur smile before. They stay out there talking until a rather disgruntled Cenred comes looking for Merlin.

_We were friends for a very long time._

''Merlin? What's wrong?''

''I kicked him out.''

Arthur curses and then strong arms wrap around Merlin, his nose pressed against Arthur's chest, smearing snot and tears all over his favourite shirt.

''He said if he ever had kids, he'd rather adopt than risk them having my ears.''

''That fucker never deserved you,'' Arthur mutters into his hair. ''I wanted to break his fingers, every time I saw him touch you.''

The kiss doesn't exactly come as a surprise, but Merlin didn't expect Arthur's gentleness. He undresses him, paints Merlin's whole skin with his lips and fingers, and when he hesitates, Merlin takes his hand and presses a kiss into his palm. This is it. He knows.

Arthur spreads Merlin's legs and hoists up his hips, and then he's moving inside him and it's better, so much better than anything ever was.

''I love your ears.'' Arthur whispers when they lie curled together later. ''They are adorable.''

''You once said they blocked your way.''

''They did. And I haven't really managed to move on, ever since.''

_And then we fell in love._

* * *

**7.**

_**Time The First** _

“Merlin!”

Said man turned around with a frown that quickly dissolved into a smile when he saw his lover. “Arthur.” He grinned before raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing in an alcove?”

“Get in here and find out.” Arthur said cheekily, pulling Merlin into the dark. Merlin couldn’t help but laugh as he was pulled against the other man, pressing an easy kiss to his lips, only to gasp as he felt a hand sneak down his trousers.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, only to hear Arthur’s soft chuckles in return.

“Come on, Merlin. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He murmured, leaning forward to nip at his lover’s jaw, making Merlin squirm as he started to work him over, his thumb sweeping over the head of the other man’s cock.

Merlin let out a soft groan, biting his lip to muffle himself in case someone else heard them. Arthur kept stroking him, getting him closer and closer to the edge – 

“Has anyone seen Arthur?”

Nothing ruined a scandalous castle romp faster than hearing your partner’s father right outside your illicit hiding place.

_**Time The Second** _

“Where are you taking me?” Arthur whispered in the darkness, Merlin tugging him by the hand with a giggle. They’d joined the knights at the Rising Sun and had therefore both had a little to drink. Not enough to be completely hopeless, but definitely enough to loosen them up a fair bit.

“Shh – you have to be quiet.” Merlin smiled. He led the way to the castle stables, hushing the horses before closing himself and Arthur inside the tack room. That bit of privacy was all it took.

Arthur wasted no time in pressing Merlin against the wall, one hand roaming up the back of his shirt to feel the warmth of his lover’s skin as their lips met in a half desperate kiss.

“Want to suck you.” Merlin whined, even as he tangled his fingers in Arthur’s hair. The blond moaned his approval, nodding as he shifted his hands down to unlace his own trousers.

“Gods, Merlin – do it.”

Merlin didn’t waste any more time. He got to his knees, pulling Arthur’s cock out reverently before sucking delicately on the head, enjoying how it made his lover tremble. Arthur’s hands had migrated to his hair, guiding him gently as he took more of his lover in – 

“Did you hear that?”

Both Merlin and Arthur tensed at the voice outside the door. There was the whinny of a horse, a thud, more footsteps…

“She’s foaling!”

In the chaos of the stable boys helping the mare give birth, the two lovers managed to edge their way out of the stables and back to the castle. Even if it was with a bit of a limp.

**_Time The Third_ **

“Nobody’s going to bother us out here.” Arthur said smugly, floating on his back in the river. Merlin grinned from the grassy banks, soaking up the sun with his feet in the water. They were both gloriously nude and completely relaxed, far away from anyone and anything.

“Does that mean you have something in mind?” Merlin asked with a grin, his gaze darkening as Arthur made his way towards him, spreading his legs invitingly.

Arthur rested between his lover’s legs, chest to chest with him as he joined their lips, their movements slow and unhurried for once. Merlin let out a shaky breath as Arthur diverted his attention to his lover’s neck, carrying on down his chest, sucking briefly at his nipple as he made his way further down. He drew Merlin’s legs apart, lowering his head – 

“Oi, I found them!”

Merlin yelped, diving for his clothes to cover himself as Gwaine appeared over the hill, following by the rest of their closest knights.

“We saw you two sneak off! Told you they’d be at the river, Elyan.” He rogue crowed. Elyan just rolled his eyes, carrying a basket of food under one arm. Only Leon looked slightly sheepish, giving Merlin and Arthur a shrug. 

The two lovers just looked at each other for a minute before sighing. Next time they’d just lock the door to Arthur’s chambers.

* * *

**8.**

After three weeks apart, they only smile at each other in the reception area, and stand close enough to feel each other's warmth while they sign the release papers. Arthur's his usual charming, professional self with the staff. At his prompting, Merlin agrees this clinic is top-notch, more comfortable than many hotels he's known.

In the dark quiet of the parking garage Arthur reaches across the front seat and they kiss – slow, hungry, restrained.

" _Zero_ side effects," Arthur says, like he still can't believe it.

"Not unless they found something in the tests and didn't tell me about it."

(That was Mordred's theory: that the new regimen cut out the obvious, painful side effects but would kill them slowly, perhaps untraceably.

"They'll never kill us off," Sophia scoffed. "Where would Pendragon make their millions if they didn't have a dangerous population to keep in line?")

"Haven't had a headache since the second day," Merlin adds. 

"That's fantastic." Arthur kisses him again. "And the withdrawal was..."

 _Fantastic._ "It was fine, Arthur. Come on, I assume you've been reading the reports, and you know I wouldn't lie, so –"

"So let's get home, I'm sorry. Just... I'm really glad you're okay."

"I know."

***

"I missed you," Merlin says when they're at home, stripping as fast as they can between reaching for each other. "I thought about you the whole time."

"Did you touch yourself?" says Arthur, palming Merlin's cock through his boxers.

"Yeah." Especially that second week, while they kept him in secure isolation and waited for all the Albiax to work its way out of his system. "Haven't jerked off so much since I was a teenager," which was the last time he went completely off meds. 

"Show me."

Merlin grins. "I'd kneel on the bed, like this, and imagine having you with me, like this." He turns Arthur around and pushes him down to his hands and knees.

In the clinic Merlin sent magic to twist around his imaginary Arthur's wrists and ankles, to pull his knees apart while Merlin worked his ass open the old-fashioned way, with fingers and energy and spit.

Today he uses the packet of lube Arthur hands him. Arthur holds his position willingly, easily, and Merlin tries not to think of how much better it would be with magic, of how fucking alive he felt when he had it back, how unfair it is that he can't have both. He's got Arthur, with his incredible devotion and his tight, perfect hole and his surprised little moans every time Merlin thrusts into him. That ought to be enough, but Merlin can't help reaching for more. He doesn't vocalize but his mouth shapes the words to surround them with light, and he knows his eyes stay blue but he lets them lose focus and pictures infinity. He grips Arthur's chest and bites Arthur's shoulder and comes in Arthur's ass, pretending they're in another life.

After Merlin pulls out Arthur lies back and starts to stroke his own cock. Tired and disappointed in ways he'll never express, Merlin simply closes his hand around Arthur's and follows along. 

"I love it when you fuck me," Arthur chokes out. "I love having you back. I love you." 

"I love you," Merlin answers, honestly, and Arthur comes, messy and open and sweet, like a boy Merlin wants to protect from the world.

***

They're drifting toward sleep when the timer goes off. Merlin goes to the bathroom and takes the Thursday afternoon pill out of the custom red and yellow plastic organizer. (It's really not that hard to keep track. People who miss doses have other reasons.)

He can hear Arthur talking on the phone in the living room.

"...I know Gaius thinks three pills in a day is a lot. But I'm telling you, once word gets around that they can live without headaches or nausea or sexual dysfunction, _and_ still follow the law, people are gonna be begging their docs for the new scrip. Compliance is gonna soar, Dad. And as soon as we get it in place as the default medication for the mandate..."

Merlin swallows and, out of habit, sticks out his tongue, though there's only the mirror to observe. Yes, sir. Model patient and citizen, compliant with the government mandate. 

Three pills and zero side effects. They've only taken away what makes him whole.

* * *

**9.**

_Daddy was going to be so proud of him._

Merlin shifted his weight forward, resting his forehead against the faucet and spreading his legs wider. His knees ached from grinding into the hard enamel of the bathtub and the sensation sent tiny zings of pleasure down his spine every time he moved his hips. Rocking his hips back and forth, Merlin reveled in the slow drag of his own fingers in and out of his hole. No lube yet and the burn was almost enough to make him weep. But he loved it that way.

Forcing a third finger into his hole, Merlin shut his eyes and basked in the inevitability of things. Merlin had been fucking himself just like this for years. Filling his arse with every reasonable thing that he could lay his hands on and even a few unreasonable things. His side table was a jungle of butt plugs and dildos in an array of shapes and sizes, leftover from every time he graduated to something better. These days, Merlin preferred steel. The cool slide and heavy weight of the metal almost settled something deep inside him. Almost.

When they’d first started fucking, before Arthur was ‘Daddy’ and Merlin was still an unowned hole desperately trying to fill itself, Arthur would joke that slipping Merlin’s favorite steel plug into his arse was the easiest way to shut him up. It got to the point that whenever Merlin would come home from the lab, pissy and frustrated by some inept intern’s fuck up, all Merlin would have to do is slide in his favorite plug and he’d calm down enough to talk things out with Arthur. That’s where all of this started, with another stressful day in the lab, frantic texts to Arthur about the potential ruination of the project Merlin had been working so hard on, and Arthur waiting at the door to send Merlin to their room.

_”Go get your pacifier.”_

His hole clenching at the memory, Merlin shifted his weight even further forward, resting his face on the floor of the bathtub and raising his arse high in the air. His back arched painfully and the sides of the tubbing stopping him from spreading his legs any wider, Merlin scrabbled around the edge of the tub with his free hand until he found the bottle of lube and his new plug. 

_His plug._

Merlin still doesn’t understand why he obeyed Arthur that night; he was pissed off, just wanted to be left alone, and by all rights should have told Arthur to go fuck himself. But he didn’t. Something in the first set of Arthur’s mouth and the softness of his eyes told Merlin to listen and he did. That night, Arthur had spread Merlin open face down on their bed while working that plug into his arse, watching the tension melt out of Merlin muscles and whispering to him about how much Arthur loved him and hated to see him so overwhelmed. Arthur had worked Merlin over with the plug for what felt like hours, until Merlin sobbed openly, his disappointment and frustration pouring out alongside the pleasure. Arthur had shushed and soothed him then, removing the plug and fucking Merlin in deep hard strokes, calling Merlin his ‘good boy’ as he brought them both to orgasm. 

That was when things shifted. Arthur became Daddy and Merlin was his good boy and somehow they’d ended up here. With Merlin face down in the bathtub, stretching his hole to accommodate the plug that Daddy had left next to his pillow that morning. Daddy had left a note saying he was out running errands and would be home by 3. 

The plug was beautiful. Stainless steel, solid, heavy, and perfect. He’d spent a full hour just staring, marveling at it. And it was _his_. He was Daddy’s good boy and Daddy had the base of the plug engraved to say just that. 

Slipping his fingers out of his hole, Merlin spread lube over the rise of the plug. Reaching back to spread his cheeks, he worked the plug into his hole, pushing past the burn until it came to rest inside him. His hole fluttered and clenched and Merlin sighed, pressing a kiss to the floor of the bathtub, so content that he couldn’t think of anything else to do. 

That’s how Daddy found him. Face down in the tub. Grinning, waiting, plugged. Finally owned.

* * *

**10.**

“She’ll come in when she’s ready,” Gwen says, scratching lightly at Merlin’s scalp, standing behind him and leaning her hips against his shoulders. He’s been sitting in the chair overlooking the garden all morning, watching the cat stalk sparrows, eat grass, and roll around in patches of sunlight.

Merlin makes an impatient noise and takes a sip of his tea, and Gwen tightens her fingers in his hair, pulls a bit. She feels him relax into the touch, so she leans in close, runs her lips over the shell of his ear, says, “Put the tea down. Take off your clothes. Get in the bed. Wait for me.”

Gwen opens the garden door before going to meet Merlin.

***

He’s so fucking perfect like this, on his knees in the bed, fingers splayed against the wall, lips bitten puffy. Gwen’s got three fingers inside him, and he’s greedy for more, groaning and fucking back on her hand.

“You want me to fuck you?” she says, sliding her cock over his arse, smearing lube all over and making a gorgeous mess of him.

“Please,” Merlin says, spreads his legs wider.

“Are you my good little cockslut?”

“Yes, only yours,” Merlin says, and when he looks over his shoulder at her, his eyes are wet with tears. Gwen shushes him, leans forward and presses a tender kiss to his mouth, which still tastes like her cunt. Her pussy clenches at the memory of grinding against his chin, her orgasm bright like lightning.

“I’ll take care of you, love,” Gwen whispers, pulling her fingers out of him and lining up her cock. She slides into him slowly, loving how open and pleased he looks as she fills him. The plug vibrating in her pussy shifts and pulses when she thrusts, her motions fucking her and Merlin both.

When Gwen is sunk all the way in, she presses her breasts to Merlin’s back and winds her arms around him, fingers playing at his nipples and navel, skirting around his cock. She kisses his neck and shoulders, so full of adoration for him, for how good and patient he’s being. Her second orgasm comes over her slowly; she’s so lost in the feeling of their wet skin sliding together, the smell of his hair, the sounds he makes as she fucks him.

“So good, darling,” Gwen says. “So pretty and perfect. Do you want to make me come again?”

“God, yes,” Merlin moans, and Gwen pulls out of him just long enough to take off the harness, detaching the cock and shoving it back into him as quickly as possible.

“On your back,” Gwen says, and Merlin obeys, cock beautiful where it rests red and sticky against his belly. She climbs his body, rubs his cockhead up and down her slit. “You feel how wet I am for you? How much I want you inside me?”

“Fuck,” Merlin says, face, ears, and chest flushed. His mouth falls open as she lowers onto him.

Gwen isn’t shy about riding him; she grinds her clit against his abdomen and clutches his cock inside her, so close, so close, _so fucking close_. She stuffs two fingers into Merlin’s mouth, and it’s the feel of his tongue fucking between them that pushes her over the edge, coming long and hard around Merlin’s cock. The third orgasm is always the best, when she’s so fucked-out and exhausted that it lasts and lasts.

She collapses on the bed next to Merlin, legs shaking, and grabs Merlin’s hip, guiding him up to straddle her face and fuck into her mouth. She plays with the toy in his arse as he swivels his cock between her lips. Gwen hums her approval and looks up into Merlin’s face: he’s got his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes are squinted shut.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Merlin says, voice rough.

Gwen pulls her mouth off his cock and takes it in her hand, tugging roughly, and says, “Come on my tits.”

Merlin’s hips twitch and his cock pulses, coating her chin, neck, and chest in come. The sounds he makes are perfection, and Gwen slowly removes the toy from his arse, earning a few more hard jerks from his cock.

She wraps her arms around him tight, pets his hair, kisses his face, and Merlin hums against her. “So good,” she says. “So lovely.”

***

When they get out of the shower, the cat is curled up on the foot of the bed, dozing happily.

* * *

**11.**

"I don't think it matters which one we get on - they're all going to the same place," says Merlin reading the train times.

"Alright," Arthur agrees.

***

"Hurry up love. They already know what you look like, no sense trying to impress them now."

"Arthur, I'm not giving your father the satisfaction of showing up with my tie being done in the wrong knot."

"Who cares? No one is going to be looking at you anyway."

"Your father will."

"Mother will keep him off you. She's not going to let anyone spoil Morgana's day."

"I suppose that's true." Merlin leans against the door frame, tie in hand. "Can you help me with this? The stupid thing just won't cooperate."

"I can think of something better to do with that." Arthur waggles his eyebrows.

"Oh sod off," Merlin scoffs. "Wait, you're serious?"

Arthur shrugs nonchalantly and moves to stand behind Merlin.

"Right, but it's on your head if your father throws a tantrum ruins the wedding because we're late."

"We wouldn't be that late," Arthur purrs, grinding gently against his backside.

He takes the tie in both hands and caresses Merlin's neck, making him shiver.

"Fine. But blindfolds only. Last time it took twenty minutes to get the knots untied."

***

Merlin's in the middle of a crowded dance floor, bodies packed in on either side. The beat is an electric current running just under his skin and he feels more alive than he has in months. Someone grinds on him from behind, a faceless stranger, and the act of not knowing whose cock is pressed against his arse only adds to his excitement.

A pair of strong arms wrap around his chest and grab at his tie, hands sliding along the length like he's trying to jack him off. Whoever is at his back has dropped all pretense of dancing. He's rutting hard and Merlin presses back, relishing in the imperfect slide of cotton on leather. In the dim lights with the pounding bass drowning out any chance at conversation, he can forget everything that's happened. Feel like a different person. Be free to fuck whoever he wants.

His dance partner comes far too quickly, finishing with a guttural grunt. He drops his head on the back of Merlin's neck, pats his chest once, and disappears back into the crowd. Merlin shivers, the club suddenly cold and his excitement gone.

Arthur is still up waiting for him when he gets home.

"You went out again." He doesn't say it like an accusation but he probably should.

"Yeah."

"Have a good time?"

Arthur's tight-lipped rage is palpable and Merlin should feel something – anything – in response, but all he feels is tired.

"Is my pillow still on the sofa?"

Arthur nods.

"Good."

Arthur looks at him for a long time like he wants to say something. Merlin half hopes he will. Anything to get them out of whatever hell they're trapped in. Instead he turns and walks out. Just like he's done every other time.

***

It's a miserably rainy day to be outside, but no one says anything about the weather. Instead, they all file in around the family, offering support and yet intruding on a private moment.

Merlin's grief is still raw. He feels exposed, engulfed by the crowd and yet standing out by the very nature of the situation. He can't think, can't respond to anyone. All he can do is focus on not crying, because once he starts he knows he won't be able to stop.

He shivers and is surprised at how cold it is. His body is operating completely on autopilot. The only thing he's consciously aware of is how much he's grinding his teeth, trying desperately to give his mouth something to do besides screaming.

The day itself is blessedly brief. Soon he'll be able to go home, loosen his tie, lie down, and hopefully never wake up. He leaves as soon as they lower the coffin into the ground. There's no point in staying – it's not Arthur. Not anymore.

***

"I don't think it matters which one we get on - they're all going to the same place," says Merlin reading the train times.

"Alright," Arthur agrees.

* * *

**12.**

Touched by a Sidhe

Arthur remembered the first time he saw them. He had urged Merlin to wash the gaia berries off his face and hands, but it wasn't nearly enough to clear the disgusting scent from the air. He wrinkled his nose and said, "Strip off, Merlin. We're two days from Camelot and if you think I'm sleeping beside you in camp tonight, you're quite mistaken."

Without a second thought, Arthur shucked his clothes and dove naked into the cool lake.

Merlin fidgeted with his belt, his boots sinking into the mud at the water's edge.

"Come on, don't be shy," Arthur called, rivulets running down his face from his drenched hair. He sliced the water with a chop that sent a splash to where Merlin stood.

Until that day, no one had ever seen Merlin naked, as far as Arthur could recall. So when Merlin stepped out of his trousers and pulled his roughspun tunic over his head, Arthur caught his first glimpse of the three dark moles that decorated his back.

“My mum says I was touched by a sidhe,” Merlin said, shivering in the chilly lake.

“An old wives’ tale, if I ever heard one,” Arthur said. He heaved himself upward and, using both hands, dunked Merlin’s head below the surface of the water.

When Merlin flailed away, gasping for breath, Arthur licked his lips and resolved that he wouldn't think about the blemishes that marred the milky skin of his manservant's back again.

*****

Arthur's resolution didn't last for long. He wanted to see the marks, to touch them with curious fingers and reverent lips. He wanted to know what other gifts the wailing sidhe may have bestowed on Merlin. He found himself assigning Merlin the filthiest jobs, in hopes of visiting Gaius's workshop later, when he suspected Merlin might bathe.

“Scrub the floor of my chambers, Merlin.”

“Sweep the fireplace, Merlin.”

“Muck out the stables, _Mer_ lin.”

Each task was designed to make Merlin dirtier than the previous. Arthur said, "And be sure to wash up afterwards," hoping to encourage a bath.

When Arthur arrived at bathtime to press three gentle fingers to Merlin’s damp skin, the ruse was up for them both.

*****

In the years that followed, Arthur looked to the three tiny circles when he needed grounding. Whether it was after the heat of battle, or when the weight of the crown threatened to crush him after a day in the council chamber, Merlin’s trio of moles beckoned Arthur’s full attention and put his mind at ease.

And Merlin knew it.

Arthur relaxed at Merlin’s welcoming words when the bedchamber door was finally latched. Merlin stood shirtless in front of the crackling fire. He coaxed Arthur, saying, “Go ahead, touch them. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Arthur strode across the stone floor and wrapped Merlin in his arms, nuzzling his nape tenderly. Merlin’s pale skin shivered with gooseflesh under Arthur’s warm hands. Arthur mouthed at Merlin’s shoulder and listened to the pretty sounds Merlin made when he stroked his flanks. He let his thumbs caress the dimples that peeked above the waistband of Merlin’s trousers, whispering, “You’d love for me to touch them, wouldn’t you?”

Merlin murmured his approval.

With one arm secure around Merlin’s waist, Arthur leaned back and _one, two, three,_ tasted each of the moles with the tip of his tongue.

Sprawled on the crimson coverlet, Merlin knelt on all fours, calling over his shoulder, “Please, Arthur. Don’t deny yourself.”

With his cock buried deep in Merlin’s arse, Arthur felt the blood sing through his veins. He fit his hands around Merlin’s narrow waist and pulled him more thoroughly onto his cock. Merlin moaned in encouragement, his face buried in the pillows as Arthur skimmed his slick insides, seeking the private place that would make Merlin cry out in ecstasy.

Arthur shifted his weight and Merlin came, his cock untouched, save for the friction from the bedding that he dampened with his seed. Merlin wailed through his pleasure, so loudly that Arthur bit down on his shoulder to quiet him so he didn’t alert the guards.

Arthur came quickly afterward, with Merlin’s clenching hole milking every last drop from him.

When they both calmed, Arthur sat back on his heels to take a better look. He touched the trio of markings affectionately and whispered, “Touched by a sidhe… hmmm?”

“They’re known to be loud,” Merlin said with a grin.

Arthur smiled and said, “I think perhaps your mother was right.”

* * *

**13.**

_Enter three witches_

0o0o0

In Morgause’s memory, the Isle is unbroken. The hallways, grander than any palace’s, are filled with priestesses, their chants and prayers echoing in the great gardens and verdoyant fields--pungent smells of earth and blooming life. The great gleaming altar stands at its center like a beacon. Power pulses through the very ground, magic seeping from its core, ancient and powerful, and all for them, Blessed as they are.

Blessed.

In reality, only ruins and crumbling walls under a permanently overcast sky, only the wind and the rain howling across the stone, only Nimueh, wait for her when she steps off the boat. 

Nimueh’s dark hair flows around her, her dress torn and dirty.

“He killed my aunt,” Morgause tells her. “For her child.”

Nimueh’s eyes are sad. “He killed us all.”

0o0o0

Nimueh teaches her the ancient ways--makes fire burst between her hands even in the storms that blow over the Isle. In the constant greyness of the days that stretch around them, Morgause understands: this is how they will survive.

Nimueh nods. “This is how he will be destroyed.”

0o0o0

Morgause lies naked on the altar where so many before her have died for the Goddess. Willing sacrifices. Blessed.

She isn’t here to die, though, she’s here to be reborn.

Nimueh, naked and so pale in the dreariness, her nipples hard and dark from the cold gale, slides her hand along the inside of Morgause’s thigh and Morgause shivers. “You will soon be Hers.”

Morgause doesn’t mind. She would do it outside of any rites. Would let Nimueh do it to her every night.

Nimueh’s fingers push inside Morgause, and her mouth is soft and wet. Morgause slides her own hand between Nimueh’s thighs, and the skies open over them, colder for the heat that’s building inside of them. It feels like a blessing.

0o0o0

When Nimueh dies, Morgause doubles over and retches onto the ground. She’s cold for days.

0o0o0

“Who taught you all this?” Morgana asks, holding her cape tighter around her. Mist clings to her hair and pale lips as Morgause tells her. “I wish I had known her,” Morgana adds, squinting into the air.

There’s a scared little beast under Morgana’s skin and Morgause will destroy it.

0o0o0

Morgana smiles, puts her hand on Morgause’s cheek. “I want all of it,” she says, then disrobes. She doesn’t even flinch in the cold air, doesn’t trip over the uneven ground of stones and dirt.

On her back, with all of her skin on display, she opens her legs and reaches for Morgause with a steady hand.

It’s natural, to climb on the altar and straddle one of Morgana’s legs, to palm at her waist. And it’s good, to see how she arches into it, cants her hips up when Morgause touches her.

Morgana’s wet, so wet that Morgause can hear the squelching sound her hand makes, pumping in and out, above the wind.

“Let Her inside,” Morgause says, bending down to take one of Morgana’s breasts in her mouth. She sucks on it and moans around it when Morgana tangles her hand in Morgause’s hair to keep her there.

Morgause is four fingers deep inside Morgana, now, and Morgana’s rolling into it demanding more like she could take Morgause’s whole hand.

Morgana thrashes, hips going up quick, eyes wide and bright and golden.

Even through her trembles she takes Morgause’s hips in her hands and guides her down on her thigh. “Take it, sister,” she says, shaking. “Join me.”

Morgause rubs herself hard, fast, until her own cries bounce across the stones.

0o0o0

“They tried to kill me,” Morgana says later, eyes cold on the sky, and Morgause knows, then, that the beast has died.

Morgana puts a hand between her thighs. Her wetness, and Morgause’s, shimmer in the weak light all over her thighs and stomach. Morgana moans, rubbing faster at herself and Morgause watches, knows the fury-like power that pulses through her veins, thumbs at Morgana’s nipple to help her. Morgana turns her head to look at her, says, “I’ll kill them first,” and comes.

“Again,” Morgause whispers, shifting to lick into her.

0o0o0

Morgause will die on the altar that gave her life, and when she looks up at Morgana holding the knife over her head, she smiles. Blessed.

Nimueh taught her how to burn. 

Morgause’s death will bring ice. 

And Morgana will destroy them all.

0o0o0

_When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost and won._

* * *

**14.**

“I can’t do this,” Elena says for the fifth time. “I can’t marry him. I can’t move to fucking Camelot.” 

She might be panicking. Just a bit. She spins to look Gwaine in the eye. “And I can’t be separated from you. I’ll die first.”

Gwaine huffs a wan laugh. “No need for dying, now. We’ll think of some—”

“Father says I must. There’s nothing for it.” Elena throws herself on the bed dramatically because Gwaine is the only man she’s ever loved, and she will not be given away as a prize to some newly minted lord. In _Camelot_.

“God even knows what it’s like there,” Elena moans. “You’ve heard the stories. They probably run around naked, with their orgies and their Thirds and—”

Gwaine draws a sharp breath behind her. Elena peeks at him.

“What?”

“A Third,” he says, his eyes lit up. “I could be your Third.”

Elena sits up. She and Gwaine stare at each other for a charged minute, before Elena’s eyes drop to the floor. Her entire face burns hot.

“ _Gwaine_ ,” Elena breathes, scandalized.

“Not—no! Not truly. As a ruse. To get close to him.” Gwaine laughs and clears his throat.

“Oh.” Elena tries to imagine it. “You’ll get close to him and then…”

“I’ll kill him.” Gwaine shrugs. “And we’ll run away together.”

*

“Well,” Elena says.

“Right.” Gwaine shuffles his feet.

Lord Percival isn’t exactly what they’d been expecting. Blinking blue eyes, chiseled features, and a body built like a castle wall.

Elena thinks, a little hysterically, that she and Gwaine will probably need hooks and rope to scale him.

“So,” Gwaine says, and sneaks a glance at her. The wedding is set to proceed momentarily, attended by the full court, including Camelot’s King, Queen, and their Third, a skinny sorcerer. Elena tries not to stare, but they seem so sweet together. Not “disgusting obscenity” at all, or whatever her mother had called it.

“So,” she repeats, and tries to convey her dilemma with just her eyes.

Gwaine tilts his head. “We could put off killing him. Just, until we know what he’s like.”

“Very reasonable,” Elena says and nods a lot.

*

“Lord Percival, I present Sir Gwaine of Carleon. He is—” Elena steels herself. “I brought him as our Third.”

“Oh!” Percival looks oddly taken aback, his eyes round as he stares at Gwaine. “Uh. I mean—anything that pleases you, of course.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

They all stand there, awkwardly, while the fire crackles in the background, and the bed looms large.

Percival coughs. “Uh. I’m not really sure how this works. Do the two of you—”

And that is when they find out that Percival is new to Camelot, too, and not generally used to the idea of Thirds. They stand around some more.

Gwaine lets out a laugh. “Why don’t I get us started then?” And he sinks into the posture of a Third—on his knees, and he looks wrong there, stiff, until Elena goes to stand before him, and his face softens as he looks up at her.

He smiles. “My lady?”

Elena braces herself by focusing on his familiar face and closes her eyes. Undoes her robe and lets it fall, cool air touching her body all over. She hears two sharp intakes of breath, and shuffles forward until she can feel Gwaine’s hot breath below her bellybutton. 

“Elena,” she hears—and feels, murmured worshipfully into the crux of her thighs—before the heat of his mouth closes over her.

His mouth is like an anchor, weighing her to the floor, and Elena loves him, loves his smirk and tongue and clever mind, thinking of a way for them to stay together. She grins over at Percival.

“I want him first,” Elena says firmly. “Inside me.”

Percival nods sharply, almost relieved. “’Course.”

It’s not done. A Third is supposed to be _third_ , to serve the needs of the couple, but by the time Gwaine has her on her back, his cock buried in its rightful place, Elena honestly can’t care.

Gwaine winks at her and looks over at Percival. “Want to fuck me while I fuck her?” 

Percival _whines_ at that, and again when he finally fucks into Gwaine’s arse. Elena is spellbound, eyes locked on Gwaine’s face as he pants and takes it. 

Everytime Percival thrusts forward, Gwaine ruts into her, and it’s like Percival is fucking them both at once.

“This could work,” Elena tells Gwaine thoughtfully, and Gwaine bursts into breathless laughter.

* * *


	6. Group B (No Warnings)

**15**

It feels like being hit by a hammer, or walking into a brick wall.

The way the bloke winks at Merlin brings back the smell of Camelot’s forest in summer, the taste of mead at the Rising Sun, the feeling of sweat under a rough linen shirt. Merlin braces himself against the table, swallows hard, and smiles back. Robert is no Gwaine, but he has Gwaine’s easy-going manner and his fierce love of living.

He teaches Merlin what it feels like to fall apart under someone’s touch, and how he sounds when he’s writhing while being opened on a clever tongue and slick fingers, and how deliciously it hurts when Merlin’s fucked hard on a huge, hot cock.

Robert also teaches Merlin how to forget; the sweet, heavy smoke from the pipe curls around them like ghost snakes, grey and evanescent like lost souls.

Merlin leaves before Robert notices the way he doesn’t age. He goes on a crisp October morning, leaving four spring rolls on the table for breakfast in lieu of saying goodbye.

***

The second time it happens, Merlin’s hands get caught in a tangle of dollar bills falling to the floor like wrinkled leaves.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry.”

The girl behind the counter is smiling. Her dimple is just like Gwen’s, her eyes a lighter shade of brown but gentle, so gentle, that if Merlin could still cry he would.

They fuck in the small room she rents from an old lady in Brooklyn. The dust from the curtains tickles Merlin's nose, and the floorboards squeak underneath the bed when Merlin thrusts into her.

He loves her sweet smile and soft hands. He worships her body, revelling in the smooth skin when he cups her breasts, kisses her stomach, and strokes her hair. She makes him forget, even if she’s not as efficient as opium.

"I want a baby," she says on a hot autumn night when they're lying on top of the covers, sweat cooling on their skin. She tangles her fingers with his. "I love you so much."

This time he leaves a note.  
***

The third time it’s winter, harsh and white, snow glistening like glitter cast from some spell. It feels as if the world has been put to sleep, reminding Merlin of the time when Lady Helen sang her song. And gods, that was a thousand years ago. _A thousand,_ Merlin thinks, curling up into a ball on the cold pavement. His heart hurts and he needs to forget.

“You all right there, mate?” The voice makes Merlin think he’s gone crazy. He takes the offered hand and lets himself be pulled up.

He’s nothing like Arthur. He’s got brown eyes and dark, unkempt locks, but it’s good when they make love, slow and warm. David is careful with Merlin’s body, just the way he’s careful with everything in life. It’s even better when they curl up on the couch together, eating crisps and watching _Doctor Who_ reruns because Merlin’s too out of it to focus on anything new.

A black, wet nose pokes Merlin’s hand and Merlin strokes the silky fur, vaguely surprised at how his hand shakes. His body doesn’t want to move. He calls out, “It’s your turn, I walked her yesterday.”

David whistles to their dog, shaking his head at Merlin’s laziness.

Later, when Merlin lies in the darkness of their bedroom listening to David’s soft breathing, he still pretends that this voice belongs to someone else.

_I’m a cheater,_ he thinks bitterly, so angry with himself he feels like he’s imploding. He only had a few winters with Arthur. He could have a lifetime with David, and yet…

This time he’s not the one to leave, but it hurts just as much. He stumbles on the sidewalk, remembering David’s blank face as he said, “You’re never sober, Merlin. I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry.”

_No more,_ Merlin thinks bitterly as he walks down the road, feeling old, so old and tired.

He looks to the lake and sighs as a lorry passes him by. The spring is so cold this year, it’s hard to believe that everything’s waking up to life again. The distant hill looks like a tomb. Icy wind burns his face like dragon’s breath. It’d be so easy to walk into the water, heavy stones in his pockets dragging him down. He could close his eyes and forget. But the oblivion of death will never be granted to him.

* * *

**16**

It takes three weeks for the police to find them.

The room they’re being held in is small and cold. The bed is a single so they sleep curled up close to one another. Their clothes have been taken away.

Merlin cries himself to sleep every night. Most mornings he wakes up crying too.

Arthur doesn’t cry. Not when he first wakes up and realises he’s a captive of the very sex traffickers he’s been trying to arrest. Not when the boss and his men come into the room and strip him roughly. Not when they drag him down to a basement packed with leering faces and one pale, shaking man in the centre of it all. Not when they put a gun to his head and tell him to fuck the shaking man or they both die, right here, right now.

If he didn’t cry when he first pressed himself inside that trembling, terrified body, he won’t start now.

He might never be able to cry again.

The man’s name is Merlin and he was snatched from the street on the way home from his bar job. He’s only been here three days longer than Arthur. But three days may as well be a lifetime at the hands of Cenred King.

Cenred likes to put on shows, and they get taken back to the basement most days. In front of crowds of baying men, Cenred makes them do things that go beyond horror; things they’ll never talk about again, except in whispers on dark nights when the burden of keeping it all inside becomes too much.

They ride in the ambulance together when the rescue finally comes, because Arthur refuses to let Merlin go.

***

It takes three months for them to realise they can’t live apart. And so Merlin moves into Arthur’s flat.

The bed is a double but they still sleep curled up close. Arthur can’t stand stirring in the night and not feeling Merlin’s skin pressed up against his. He needs to always have some part of his body touching Merlin’s, to make sure he’s still there, that he hasn’t slipped away.

Merlin still wakes up crying most days. Arthur cradles his head and wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, soft as he can.

Arthur gets frozen sometimes: in the shower, at the sink, by the fridge; his entire body stiff and numb. When Merlin finds him, he rubs his back and talks quietly until Arthur can move again.

Arthur goes back to his job. He likes having something to do, likes feeling useful. His boss tries to keep him away from rape cases for a while but Arthur asks him not to. That’s where his help is needed most.

Merlin can’t go back to the bar; he’ll never be able to walk alone at night again. He turns his hand to illustration instead, sets up a desk in the living room and draws all day. There’s no real money in it, he might not be able to do it forever, but it works for now.

They don’t have company round much. They need a lot of silence and a lot of space.

They don’t have sex. Arthur can’t imagine ever wanting to do that again. Merlin says, _maybe, one day, who knows._

But they kiss, a lot, last thing before they go to sleep at night, first thing when they wake up in the morning. They kiss when Arthur leaves for work and they kiss when he gets home again. They kiss all the time, over nothing, and it’s simple, it’s wonderful, and nothing that happened to them in that basement can ruin it.

***

It takes three years for Merlin to leave the house unaccompanied. He walks to the park and back, then collapses inside the doorway the second he gets home. It’s easier the next time he tries it. It’s even easier the time after that.

It takes three years for Arthur to cry, and it happens at Christmas when some sentimental old film is playing on the TV. Merlin doesn’t say anything, just grips his hand tight. Arthur watches the people onscreen laugh together, a happy human throng, and lets the tears fall. He thinks about redemption, and what it means to trust another person completely, and how you pick up the pieces of a life shattered beyond imagining.

The family onscreen are singing Auld Lang Syne. Merlin’s hand is warm in his. Outside the snow is falling.

* * *

**17**

“Hello! Welcome to the Trinity Museum of Arthurian History! I’m Em, and I’ll be your tour guide today.

“This tour will take us through some of the most well-preserved artifacts of the Arthurian era. Our collection is a result of half a century’s worth of excavation at several locations throughout South Wales—

“Oh, sorry, do you have a question…? Yes, you in the back…. What was that? Medieval… What? Medieval _sex toys_ —Oh, bloody hell, no. No, um, Arthurian erotic tools are in this museum at the present time. You can’t believe everything you read on the internet, I’m afraid.

“Okay, any more questions? No? Alright, let’s get started….”

—

“This here is one of the crown jewels of our collection. As you can see, this small, ornate clay oil pot is decorated with several elongated spears, and—

“ _No_ , they are _not_ penises, they are _spears_! Those are the spearheads at the top there, and those, uh, round shapes at the bottom…. Well, I can see how you might interpret it that way, but those are _hands_ , see? Two hands holding each spear, at the bottom.”

—

_The oil pot had spent most of its days hidden in a drawer on a bedside table. It had been given to the king as a gift from the dark-haired one with light in his eyes and magic in his fingertips._

_The pot had known the touch of many fingers—gentle fingers, searching for the oil in slow, careful movements; passionate fingers, flung outward with such neediness that they nearly knocked the pot off the nightstand; desperate, fearful fingers, blind and burning and trembling like leaves as they tried to push back tomorrow a little further, to give themselves a little more time, to delay the inevitable._  
  
—

“Our next piece is one of my personal favorites. Experts speculate that this 3-inch-long wooden piece worked similarly to the modern saddle horn, which protrudes at the front of the Western saddle. As you can see, it is decorated with a series of jousting knights—

“Um, no. I’m fairly certain that this piece was never used for anything, uh, scandalous. Though the shape is rather different from the modern-day saddle horn….”

—

_It had always been kept in secret places—the bottom of the saddle bag, the coat pocket, the satchel. It was made to be mounted on a saddle, but a couple of the knights had better ideas. They liked to put the saddle horn in another secret place._

_They’d keep it in for hours sometimes. It was always the same two—the large, brawny one and the roguish brunette. They would lock eyes across the campfire, and one would shift uncomfortably, and the other one would respond with a heavy-lidded look, and they’d excuse themselves to yank the saddle-piece out and replace it with something decidedly more human. Oak could never replace flesh._  
  
—

“Finally, this here is the most famous object in our possession. There’s a lot of debate about what this tool was for. Some speculate that it was a long stone pestle for an apothecary, while others insist that its elongated shape and the slight flare at the end made it ideal for styling hair.

“What was that? …Oh, well, yes. That is another, uh, interpretation….”

—

_When night had fallen and the sun’s light had scattered into a million stars, the women touched and kissed and sighed and loved each other in the most intimate of ways, and although they adored one another’s fingers and tongues, the stone piece was consistently a favorite._

_Sometimes, the pale one would hold the stone while her lover writhed, trembled, gasped, whimpered, cried out at the perfection of it, at the skill of her lady’s wrist. Sometimes they’d trade, and the handmaid would be pulling the noises from her lover’s lips with sweet, delicate movements, so tender that they brought tears. Every fervent touch tightened the air. Every kiss made it glow._

—

“Thank you all for joining us, and I hope you all enjoyed the tour! The gift shop is on your left. Have a wonderful day!”

After everyone else had gone, one man remained. Em sighed.

“Really, Arthur? Did you have to ask those particular questions?” he chided, crossing his arms.

Arthur shrugged, but he was grinning, too, the prat. “What? I knew the truth—I was _there_ , for Christ’s sake. I couldn’t let you deceive all the nice visitors, could I?”

“A little discretion couldn’t hurt. This is the second time this _week._ ”

“You’re showing people sex toys for money,” Arthur replied. “I should think we’ve thrown discretion out the window.

* * *

**18**

"What's buggery?"

Arthur was already in his shirtsleeves, sprawled out on the bed of the great cabin.

Merlin loosened his cravat, then removed his coat.

"Why do you ask?"

"When Papa decided I'd join you, I heard Gaius tell Cook that nothing good would come from sending a boy like me to sea, that I'd be buggered senseless before we left port."

Had Uther had any sense at all, he would have sent Arthur to a good school, rather than having him taught at home until now. Then he would know all about buggery already.

"I'm not sure I ought to tell you." Merlin joined Arthur on the bed. "Your Papa wouldn't thank me for it."

In truth, Arthur's Papa probably would not thank Merlin for a lot of the things he had taught Arthur.

But Arthur was used to getting his way.

He crawled into Merlin's lap and unbuttoned his own shirt, allowing Merlin a glimpse of golden skin and pink nipples. Even though he regularly sampled Arthur's delight, the sight still made Merlin's breeches tight.

"Then show me." Arthur's voice in his ear was like a pellet of opium: a sweet, sticky reminder of pleasures to come. "Please, Merlin?"

It had been easy enough for Merlin to tell himself that he was offering a homesick boy comfort when he first allowed Arthur into his bed. It was only natural that one thing should have led to another, but never _that_. Merlin had not wanted to know the punishment for making the admiral's son his bum-boy.

"Is it something one does with one's mouth?" Arthur licked along Merlin's jaw.

"No."

"With one's fingers?" Button after button, Merlin's waistcoat fell open.

"No."

"Well, if it isn't one or two, it must be ..." Arthur's hand found its way inside Merlin's breeches and drawers, freeing Merlin's prick, "three. But how am I to worship it without neither hands nor mouth?"

Merlin made his choice. He cupped Arthur's bottom. "With this."

Arthur's brow crumpled; he truly did not know.

Well, he would now.

Merlin's grip on Arthur grew firmer, and he slid a thumb along the cleft, through the thin breeches. Arthur yelped, but then he pushed back. Merlin could feel Arthur's stiffness against his stomach.

"Undress, and I'll show you. But it has to be our secret."

Arthur nodded. He was a satyr, always hungry for new pleasures.

Merlin undid his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. "I won't lie to you. It will hurt."

"I don't care." Arthur was already stripping.

He settled on his hands and knees like a whore, wiggling his bottom in the air. He kept his stockings on, oh Lord.

Merlin knelt behind him. He spread Arthur's buttocks, exposing a hole that was currently no hole at all. Arthur's prick stood eager against his belly, but this part needed coaxing.

"I want to put my prick here," Merlin said, and licked.

Arthur's reply turned into a whine, before he remembered to muffle his noises in the pillow.

Merlin licked again, then sucked at the bunched little pleats of skin. He would straighten them out as he stretched Arthur's virgin hole wide open around his prick. The thought made clear fluid bead at his piss-slit and dribble down the shaft.

Soon he could tease a finger inside. Arthur cried out.

"Merlin! Oh, please, Merlin!"

It would have taken a stronger man to deny him.

Merlin found the vial of oil, slicked himself, and pushed. It was tight, but Merlin persevered.

Arthur wailed as he was breached, tensing up at the rude intrusion. It was no use. Once he was fully sheathed, Merlin grabbed Arthur's hips, drew out, then slammed back in. Fuelled by months of teasing, he set a punishing pace.

Arthur made more sounds. Perhaps he even asked Merlin to stop, but Merlin was too far gone to listen.

He mounted Arthur properly, covered that sturdy body with his own. He grabbed Arthur's jaw and kissed him; a man's kisses, not the boyish adorations they had practised nightly for so long.

Arthur did not respond. He was lax now, and had begun to weep. Merlin kissed his tears as they fell. A deep, warm spurt drained him, and claimed Arthur for his.

They collapsed together, bodies joined.

Arthur was trembling.

Merlin curled around him. "Hush now, sweetling. I told you it would hurt, didn't I? Oh, shh! Here, let me take care of you."

Arthur was still sobbing when Merlin stroked him to completion.

* * *

**19**

“The prince must wed the land,” his father had said, and the priestesses had stripped him of his clothing, crowned him with a wreath of holly and left him alone in a meadow with a goblet of strange, burning drink.

~

She comes to him as the sun sets, naked but for the dark hair guarding her mound and shrouding her shoulders. Her green eyes gleam in the shadow of her face as a cat’s, and he bows in front of the mortal body of the priestess, his soul saluting the power of the goddess within her.

The drink has made him hot, too tight in his own skin, and his cock has grown heavy between his legs; and it takes all his warrior discipline to wait unmovingly for her guidance. She gives it easily, drawing him up against her, her skin cool as night air under his feverish touch. She twines her fingers in his hair, her grip only barely shy of pain – but he doesn’t mind the least as she kisses his lips gently, slow and tauntingly sweet.

Like the priestess he is simply the instrument of the goddess in their union, and as she pushes him down he goes gladly, his pleasure only in the thought of pleasing her. She guides his lips to her breast with sharp tugs of hair, and he latches on eagerly, suckling like a newborn babe. She lets out her first noise, a wild, primal groan that vibrates under his hands, and he can’t resist using a bit of teeth; she rewards him with another sound and clever fingers that give his cock a twist that almost makes him sob in pleasure.

She shushes him gently, bending to kiss the top of his head, and her lovely hair falls down as a curtain of the night.

“Rejoice, brother,” she says, the rich velvet of her voice calming his racing heart. “The Horned One has honoured us with his presence.”

Reluctantly, with a final lick he leaves her nipple and turns in her arms to follow her gaze to the edge of woods. A horned figure, surrounded by a faint, golden mist approaches them swiftly, the lightness of his feet carrying him over the grass with the ease of the wind. The glow illuminates a delicate face of otherworldly beauty, golden eyes and knife sharp cheekbones – and again he bows in awe, for this young druid has brought the Horned God to him.

The god laughs, a tantalising sound that takes a piece of his heart for its own, and this time he rises on his own accord, leaving the arms of the goddess to kiss a god. It’s a different sort of kiss, fiercer and deeper and he shudders with need, mindlessly rubbing his cock against an offered thigh.

She comes to stand behind him, the press of her breasts intoxicating against his back. They kiss over his shoulder, their cheeks brushing against his skin, the smacks of their mouths loud and obscene. He grinds forward desperate for relief, then freezes as cool, wet fingers graze against his hole. He waits, taunt as a bowstring, fearing he will explode with both anticipation and fear but small kisses start to melt on both of his shoulders and he melts with them, down to her waiting fingers.

She strokes his insides, finding a place that lights a sea of stars in his mind, and the Horned One swallows his cries with his greedy, clever mouth. Desperately he clamps his hand around the base of his cock to stop the tide of the orgasm building inside him – and he is rewarded with endearments sweeter than he would know how to repeat.

They detangle themselves from him and it feels like his very soul is being ripped apart, but she simply draws him down to the grass with her and the Horned One guides him down to her wet heat. He rests his head against her collarbone, overwhelmed as a thick cock starts pushing against his hole – but finally they move as one, every inch of his body turning into a conduct of divine power and pleasure. He shivers at the loud grunts and moans filling the air around them. A particularly strong thrust makes him cry out with the simultaneous pleasure of being taken and taking, and he spills his seed inside her, the power of his orgasm like the power of gods.

~

Come morning he wakes tangled with them, Merlin and Morgana, and they make love again, as young humans full of life.

* * *

**20**

It starts on a Friday.

Merlin gets home from work and Arthur’s settled sprawled across the couch, laughing at something on the T.V.

“What are you watching?” Merlin asks, and his tone is casual, because, at this point in time, he has no idea.

“ _Three’s Company_ ,” Arthur says, leaning into the touch when Merlin ruffles his hair as he passes. “Some American sitcom based off of _Man About the House_.”

Merlin hums in response and really, that’s that.

**  
Arthur works over the weekend, and when he gets home late on Sunday night he heads straight for the DVD player.

Merlin thinks it’s sort of cute.  
**  
On Monday night, Merlin crawls into Arthur’s lap, mouths hotly at his jaw.

Arthur cranes his neck, looking over Merlin’s shoulder.

“ _Mer_ lin, it’s the series finale,” he says, pushing at Merlin’s hips.

**  
It’s not that Arthur and Merlin spend all of their spare time having sex. But. Well. They’ve always prided themselves on the fact that they’ve been together for years and still fuck like rabbits.

So when Arthur dodges his advances (again) on Tuesday night, Merlin’s sort of a bit more than irritated.

Five days without sex can do that to a person.

**  
By Wednesday, Merlin has decided that if he hears _Three’s Company, Too_ one more bloody time he’s going to break the T.V. Or possibly Arthur’s face.

**  
Merlin wanks off in the shower on Thursday morning – loud and filthy.

(Arthur doesn’t rise to the bait)

**  
When Friday rolls around again, Merlin is in a mood.

He avoids Arthur and heads straight for the kitchen to make dinner when he gets home.

Arthur pads into the kitchen shortly after, tight V-neck stretched over his back and jeans hugging his hips. Merlin’s cock stirs. Traitorous bastard.

Arthur looks into the empty pot on the stove and then at Merlin.

“I haven’t had dinner yet, you know,” he says. Merlin wants to knee him in the balls.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to take your needs into consideration?” Merlin asks, not meeting Arthur’s gaze.

“What?”

“Oh come off it, Arthur.” Merlin pushes his plate away and stands up. “Are you really going to pretend you haven’t been avoiding sex for the past week?”

“Everything else…seems fine, but –“ he rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “It’s like, as soon as I get my hands on you, a fucking sitcom is a hundred times more interesting.”

Arthur’s gaze is heavy and set on Merlin, and it makes him squirm.

“Would you _say_ something?” Merlin snaps.

Arthur rounds the counter. He grips Merlin’s hips from behind, and leans forward to nuzzle at his neck.

Merlin tries to stand his ground. “I want an explanation,” he breathes out. 

Arthur drags his lips downwards, his body pushing forward to trap Merlin between him and the counter.

“This is your explanation,” Arthur answers, and Merlin isn’t quite following, mind already hazy from anticipation.

“W-wha –“

Merlin’s question is interrupted by two fingers pressing into his mouth. Arthur places a kiss beneath Merlin’s ear and whispers a hoarse, “Suck.”

Merlin does, and Arthur slides another hand beneath of the hem of his shirt, nails scratching the coarse hair on his lower belly.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Arthur says, fingers moving rhythmically between Merlin’s lips. “You’re going to strip for me. Don’t rush – wanna watch you.”

Arthur bites the skin against Merlin’s pulse, and Merlin moans. “Then, I’m going to open you open you up – take my time, wait until you’re begging.”

Merlin’s knees nearly buckle beneath him, certain that if Arthur’s hands weren’t wrapped around him. “’m going to bend you over – right here over the counter -- and fuck you until you’ve forgotten your name. And you’ll come, untouched. Understood?”

“ _Mmf_ ,” and a frantic nod is the only response Merlin can manage.

It’s not until Arthur’s balls deep in Merlin’s arse, hands braced on either side of Merlin’s against the edge of the counter, that Merlin _realizes_. 

“Fuck, bloody fucking – oh god – you sadist,” he moans. “Y-you. Fuck. You planned this.”

Merlin can feel Arthur’s smirk against his shoulder. “Wanted you all wound up and desperate,” Arthur mutters, hips thrusting forward.

“Please,” Merlin pants. “ _Please_.”

Arthur brings a hand to Merlin’s jaw, tipping his head to slide their lips together in a wet kiss. “C’mon, love,” he mutters into Merlin’s mouth. “Come for me.”

Merlin’s vision spots when he comes, body falling heavily against Arthur.

"'s still a stupid show," Merlin mumbles into Arthur's neck.

* * *

**21**

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gwen asks, again. She’s asked so many times it almost doesn’t sound like a question anymore, just a strange ritual statement she repeats in front of their computer now. 

“I’m sure,” Arthur says. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this part with me. I can handle the, er, _set-up_. And you can just meet him on the day we all. Um. Meet.” 

“That would be worse in every aspect and better in none of them,” Arthur says. He’s certain of that much at least. The very last thing he wants is to be caught off guard. 

“Okay,” Gwen says. She smiles her ‘here we go!’ smile and pulls him closer by the arm of his rolling chair and kisses him just as her laptop pings and the light next to Merlin’s name glows green. A little phone icon jangles until she clicks on it. 

“Hello?” says a pleasant, deep voice through the gauzy static of a bad mic. 

“Hi!” Gwen says, leaning a little closer to the keyboard of her computer. “Hi, we’re here. Both of us,” she clarifies, reaching for Arthur’s hand.

“Hi,” Arthur says, after an awkward beat of silence. 

“Hi to you both, it’s great to meet you. In stereo, if not in person.” 

The man — Merlin — has a smiling voice, Arthur decides. He also decides it annoys him. What reason Merlin has for being so cheery before they’ve even committed to anything is a mystery. 

He lets Gwen and Merlin talk and listens with half an ear while the other half of his mind settles out of focus, letting his imagination warp their pleasant conversation into sex noises. His hands are clenched on the armrests of his chair before Gwen startles him out of it with a touch to his wrist. 

“That sounds great,” she’s saying, waving at the screen like Merlin can see her. “We’ll talk again soon.” 

“Bye Gwen,” Merlin says, still chipper, before adding a more cautious, “bye Arthur.” 

“Bye, uh.” Arthur clears his throat, unsure of what to say. “Bye.” 

“Bye Merlin!” Gwen says, shutting her laptop and rotating her chair towards Arthur in one motion.

“What,” Arthur says.

“You said you were sure,” Gwen chides him. 

“I know.” He sighs. 

*

Gwen bites her lip, kneading her feet deeper into the warmth under Arthur’s thigh. The corner of his mouth quirks, but he doesn’t look away from their movie. 

“Are you _su_ —”

“Yes, Gwen. Yes. I’m sure.” 

“It’s just,” Gwen starts, fiddling with their blanket. Arthur turns off the tv, but he can’t quite bring himself to meet her eyes. He cups one of her heels in his palm, stroking her ankle with his thumb. “The idea seems so upsetting to you. I don’t know why you want it. I...don’t know how to want it myself, if it’s only going to hurt you.” 

There are too many ways to respond tightening his throat. He pulls her onto his lap and hugs her hard to his chest instead. 

“It’s going to hurt either way,” he finally admits. “I need… I need you to want it if it’s going to hurt the right way.” 

Gwen hugs him back, running her fingers through the hair at his nape for a long, quiet moment. 

“He sent me pictures,” she says against his temple. Her tone is hesitant, but Arthur’s gut churns and his heart begins to thump. 

He swallows. “And?”

“He’s big,” Gwen whispers. “Bigger than you.” 

Arthur’s hands fist in Gwen’s nightshirt, finding her bare underneath. 

“It’s…” she pauses, and he can feel her breath against the shell of his ear, rapid and light. “It’s going to feel so good when he’s inside me.” 

And all the air in Arthur’s body leaves him in a rush, _exactly_ like he’s been punched. Gwen’s working at his placket, and his cheeks go hot when she gets her hands on his cock, knowing they can both feel how hard he is already. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, digging three fingers into her easily, scalded to know she’s turned on too, thinking of fucking another man. “Tell me, please—”

“I’m gonna be so full,” she says, lining him up and sliding down, all the way, rocking against his pubic bone and squeezing. “He’s going to stretch me open and use me while you watch,” she whines. 

Arthur’s stomach turns and he bites off a pained noise even as he comes so hard his eyes sting.

* * *

**22**

A door slams behind him and Arthur tries suppress his flinch mid-way. A stout man comes into focus, pacing first along the side of the table in front of Arthur then coming to stand directly across from him. “Who was your partner?” he asks. Arthur remains silent and looks away. “If you help me find him, you’ll get less time.” Arthur almost snorts at that. As if he would give Merlin up. The officer switches gears, “Why’d you do it?”  
Arthur huffs out a breath then reluctantly admits, “No idea.” After another moment, “It was hot…it was boring.”  
 _Arthur looked up at the sky, exhaling the smoke as if it gave him life. He shut his eyes against the blazing sun and reached out a hand. He felt Merlin’s fingers ghost across his palm. Opening his eyes again, he took in another drag of his cigarette before offering it to Merlin.  
“What if we did something?” Arthur asked, breaking the silence.  
“Like what?”  
“I don’t know…anything.”_  
***  
They took one look through the gate before deciding, “That one.” Arthur peered into the darkness around him to make sure they were alone before following Merlin over the gate.  
Once he was on the other side, excitement bubbled up inside him, giving him a buzz that no liquor could ever hope to recreate. Merlin was already ahead of him, climbing up the ladder of the diving board. Arthur shucked his clothes at the edge of the pool before diving into the water, the sudden shock of cold only fueling his energy.  
They spent a good half hour mucking around the in the pool before Arthur took Merlin’s hand and led him to the pool’s edge, crowding him so that Merlin’s back was pressed against the tile. He leaned in for a kiss, already a stirring feeling in his abdomen.  
He ran his hands up Merlin’s sides and Merlin pulled him in closer. Merlin’s length was pressed along his thigh, barely contained in the flimsy fabric. Arthur reached a hand between them and pulled them both out, stroking them together. He could feel Merlin’s breath getting quicker against his neck.  
“Uuh Arthur _yes_ ,” Merlin panted. Arthur felt him stiffen with his release and followed quickly after. Before they had a chance to recover, a blinding light switched on around the gate.  
They hopped out of the pool, barely pausing to get their clothing, and climbed over the gate. Behind them, they left a fuming security guard and an equally angry dog. But they kept running, laughing like mad.  
***  
They entered the department store at midday, wandering through the aisles. Merlin looked up at Arthur and leaned his head on his shoulder, before lifting it again in favor of lacing his fingers through Arthur’s as they kept walking.  
Once they came to the electronics aisle, they started discreetly piling the most expensive gadgets on the shelf into their knapsacks.  
Bags bulging, they approached the checkout counters. “Ok, on the count of three, we run for the doors and don’t look back. Good?” Arthur whispered.  
“Yes, good,” Merlin whispered back, glancing wearily at the store employees.  
“Alright then on three. 1…2…3…”  
***  
The motorcycle hummed under them as they approached the small bank, fully supplied with sunglasses, scarves around their mouths, and guns in their belts. Even though it was broad daylight, Arthur still felt like it was 3 AM and he’d been up for days.  
They burst through the doors, waving their guns at the customers then settling on the banker.  
“Good day everyone, this is a robbery, I want hands in the air and I want nobody to move,” Arthur announced loudly.  
Merlin approached the counter, gun pointed forward, and asked the frightened man, “Hand over the money and nobody gets hurt.”  
“We don’t keep money here,” the man replied.  
“Don’t bullshit me. This is a bank, which means it has money,” Merlin said gruffly.  
Outside the doors, police sirens were already coming within earshot.  
“Fine then, everyone hand over your phones,” Arthur intervened.  
“Arthur we’ve got to go NOW,” Merlin said, already moving towards the doors. Arthur gave up and ran out after him, only to be confronted by a police officer.  
“Hands in the air!” the officer shouted.  
Arthur looked over at Merlin who made it farther away but was now standing still, then in a split-second decision screamed, “RUN!” and moved in front of the officer’s path, dropping his gun as he listened to Merlin’s footfalls getting farther away.

* * *

**23**

Merlin Emrys was at home on a Friday evening, preparing a romantic dinner for the third date with his long-time childhood friend, Percival Knight. The table was set, the lamb roast and vegetables cooked and little Belgian chocolate mug cakes were cooling in the windowsill.

He dressed in a fetching pair of blue form-fitting skinny jeans and sneakers, along with a sky blue long sleeve T-shirt and a soft red scarf.

Merlin greeted Percival at the door before being presented with a bouquet of roses which were promptly placed in a vase and arranged on the dinner table.

“Merlin, this is fantastic! Where did you learn to cook like this?” Percival asked around a mouthful of roast and potatoes.

“I used to help mum in the kitchen a lot when I was younger,” Merlin smiled shyly.

“Your mum should be proud, this is five star quality food,” said Percival, raising his wine glass.

They adjourned to the lounge for desert. Merlin looked at Percival, failing to suppress a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Percival asked with a raised brow.

“You have some chocolate on your lip,” Merlin smiled, scooting closer.

“Where?” said Percival, wiping at his mouth.

“Right here,” said Merlin, leaning up and catching his lips in a sweet kiss. Slowly drawing back, he looked Percival in the eye, before leaning back in for a second and third kiss, feeling a large hand move to cup the back of his neck, deepening their kisses until they were full on snogging.

Clothes lay discarded on the floor, with hands roaming one another’s bodies. Merlin lay on top of Percival, his lithe, slender body dwarfed in caparison to Percival’s taller, muscular physique. Merlin moaned into the kiss, as Percival groped his pert buttocks.

“May I?” Percival asked, briefly breaking the kiss, his fingers resting near the cleft of Merlin’s arse.

“Yes,” Merlin breathed, trailing kisses down Percival’s neck and collarbone. Percival lathered a finger with spit before gently pushing it past Merlin’s tight ring of muscle. Merlin moaned loudly, Percival’s cock pulsing beneath him while he rocked back into Percival’s intruding digit.

He lowered his head, biting Percival’s neck and sucking a visible bruise on his skin when a second finger was added. Percival managed a third finger into Merlin before his mouth was attacked with an array of filthy kisses, their tongues wrestling frantically while he fingered Merlin’s hole.

“Oh God, Percy! I want- I need you inside me,” Merlin whimpered, his cock slick with arousal as it dribbled down his shaft.

“Not here,” Percival sighed, “Bed!”

Merlin wrapped his legs around Percival’s waist as he hoisted him up, steadily walking to Merlin’s bedroom. He gently lowered Merlin onto the soft sheets of his poster bed, positioning his large cock at Merlin’s hole. “Are you sure you-”

“Yes,” Merlin whispered, cupping his cheek to erase any doubt from Percival’s mind.

“We can stop at any time, just let me know,” Percival leaned down to place a kiss on his lips, slicking Merlin’s hole with his precum. Merlin gasped, his legs tightening around Percival as his cock slid past his tight ring of muscle.

“More,” he begged, pulling Percival in deeper. His back arched when Percival was buried balls deep inside him, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

Percival breathed through gritted teeth, thrusting into the raven haired man as his moans and gasps of ecstasy went straight to his cock, egging him on to increase speed.  
“Oh yes!! Pound me harder, daddy!” Merlin moaned.

Hearing Merlin’s words, Percival let go of all restraint, lifting him in his arms as he thrust vigorously into the smaller man. They looked at each other, never breaking eye contact, taking in the sight of pure bliss etched on one another’s face. “I’m gonna cum!” Percival warned through a low growl.

“Oh yeah, fill me, daddy!” Merlin yelled, flexing his muscles around the taller man’s cock.

Percival yelled out as he thrust into Merlin three more times before erupting inside him with his cock buried to the base.

“Oh fuck!” Merlin gasped, as his own cum shot into the air and landed on his lips, chest and stomach, with the rest drizzling down his balls. Percival caught his lips in a searing kiss, licking the jizz off of Merlin’s mouth before both collapsed on the bed.

“That was incredible!” Percival purred, holding Merlin close.

“I told you, the third date would be magical,” Merlin replied, nuzzling Percival’s neck before they drifted off into sleep.

* * *

**24**

Merlin smiled when he woke up. He stretched and settled back into a comfortable position on his back, unwilling to leave the comfort of his bed. One of Merlin's hands made its way down his abdomen and under his sleep gown to grasp his morning erection. It was rare that he had the chance to get himself off in anything less than a hurried frenzy as he was often late for his duties.

Merlin groaned as he pulled down his foreskin and spread the liquid that was beading at the tip down his shaft. He settled into a slow stroke from tip to base for a long while. He couldn't help but speed up his strokes when he finally allowed his other hand to pinch and rub at his nipples. His strokes were an easy glide as the liquid beading at his tip was continually spread down his shaft. He let himself get lost in a fantasy of strong muscles and blonde hair as he stroked himself to the edge of pleasure.

"Merlin!" Gaius yelled as he knocked on the door and Merlin cursed under his breath as he scrambled to cover himself up. "I need you to go into the forest for supplies," he said as he opened the door and looked around the corner at Merlin.

"I'll be down soon," Merlin assured. He sighed in relief when he heard the door close. Merlin groaned and got out of bed to start the day, his morning erection quickly subsiding.

\---

Late afternoon found Merlin in the forest with a basket full of mushrooms, herbs, and flowers that Gaius needed. Merlin was sat on a rock enjoying his lunch before going back when he had an idea. Surely, he wouldn't be interrupted here. The very thought had Merlin growing hard in the confines of his trousers as he finished. Merlin settled on the ground so he could lean against the rock and deftly unlaced his trousers, he groaned when his knuckles skimmed across the hardness and wrapped his fingers around his length. He gave it a squeeze before starting to stroke at a moderate pace. Merlin moaned as he imagined a different hand stroking down his cock and pulling his hair to make him bare his throat to savage kisses.

A blood-curdling scream pried Merlin from his fantasies and he groaned in frustration as he hurriedly tucked himself away to help whoever had managed to get themselves in such trouble.

\---  
Merlin sighed to himself as he splashed the cold water against his face to keep himself alert before cupping a handful and swallowing it. Arthur, the knights, and Merlin were all camped out in the forest staking out the Wyvern that had supposedly caused the young woman's distress earlier. There were still no signs of the creature and they had finally set up their tents for the night.

Merlin cursed his luck as he filled up the canteens. He briefly considered walking away for a few minutes to take care of his pressing problem, but the raucousness of the knights meant that he wouldn't be able to escape without jeering questions. Merlin sighed and resigned himself to waiting until they were asleep and went to join everyone around the campfire.

\---  
Merlin squinted in the darkness in confusion, he'd fallen asleep as he waited for Arthur to do the same. He was awake now and could surely escape for a few moments, he thought. Then he heard Arthur groan and realized what had woken him up so abruptly. Merlin could hear the tell-tale sound of fabric being rustled and breaths that come quicker than normal. Merlin bit his lower lip as he cupped his quickly growing erection through the fabric of his trousers when he heard Arthur groan again.

Merlin's stomach muscles clenched as he heard Arthur curse and he threw caution to the wind. Merlin slipped his hand into his trousers, not even trying to unlace them and firmly stroked his cock in time to the rustles of fabric he heard. Merlin stuffed his hand into his mouth to muffle a groan of his own. He heard another shout from Arthur shout as he came and Merlin could do nothing but to finally follow Arthur's lead. There was silence as they both brought their breathing back to normal.

"Go to sleep, Merlin," Arthur finally said, breaking the quiet awkwardness of the tent.

"Yes, sire," Merlin replied as he turned onto his side and smiled, finally satiated.

* * *

**25**

Arthur hadn't quite known what to expect when 'the ritual of the chalice' began. He'd assumed he'd he drinking from a cup. He hadn't expected the pale, naked figure of a man presented to him on the altar. A red blindfold was covering the man's eyes, a mop of dark, unruly hair visible underneath.

"We have prepared your chalice," the high priest told him. "Yours will he the act of life, pledging your life to the Knights. His," he said, pointing to the man on the altar, "will be the act of submission. He will be bound to you from this day forward."

Arthur knew better than to ask questions but he felt a flash of heat at the realization that he was to have sex in front of the priest and knight Leon, his mentor. It was Leon who moved forward and gestured to Arthur that he was to take off his clothes and hand them over.

Arthur followed the instructions but moved closer to the altar only hesitatingly, conscious of his nudity and head full of doubts. Who was this man? It looked like a feast that was presented to him, a lamb to the slaughter. His long dark-red cock was standing up proudly but the man was shivering. Fear or anticipation? Drugs maybe?

On inching closer, Arthur's eyes fell upon the tattoos on the ball of the man's feet. One was a triangle, symbol of the Order, the other was a dragon - _his_ symbol. He felt a surge of heat, his cock hardening, not caring about the two spectators. Intuitively he reached out to touch the dragon on the sensitive, inked skin.

"Arthur," the man's voice sounded breathless and hoarse.

"He knows my name?!" Arthur sprang backwards.

"He does." The priest said, "You may know his; it's Merlin."

Arthur moved closer again, letting his hands roam Merlin's body, spread out in front of him. As he did so, the high priest and Leon started chanting. The ritual had begun, there was no going back.

Following the long legs dusted with dark hair, Arthur's fingers traced the jutting hipbones, ultimately mesmirized by the cock that was clearly aching to be touched. When he took it in his hand, Merlin let out a deep sigh of pleasure. He gave it a few tugs and watched Merlin arch up from the table with a soft cry.

The chanting became louder. Arthur was brought back to the job at hand. He let go of Merlin's cock and pushed two fingers into his hole. They came out dripping in oil. Arthur was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be inside of this man. He climbed onto the table and with two knees at either side of Merlin's lean frame. Sinking into the pliant body felt glorious. Merlin pushed back, allowing Arthur to be balls-deep into him.

Arthur fucked Merlin on the rhythm of the chanting and the low moans Merlin let out. He let his hands touch every inch of Merlin's body he could reach, he found and endless expanse of soft skin, ribs sticking out and a delicious musky scent that drove him to go hard and fast.

When he felt Merlin come, arse clenching on his cock, he knew he wasn't far behind. The chanting had become so loud it filled the room. Somehow it finished the moment Arthur came with a strangled cry. In the silence that followed, Merlin's ragged breathing and his own were the only sounds left.

Merlin's lips were curved into a blissful smile and Arthur ached to take off the blindfold. Instead he climbed off the table, nervously looking up to see if he'd passed the final test.

Leon was standing in fron of him, presenting him his new red gown. He had officially joined the order and his mentor was beaming with pride.

"You may now drink from the cup of life," the high priest said, holding out the cup.

The last Arthur remembered was the liquid touching his lips.

He woke up with an unfamiliar, smiling face above his. "You're awake!"

It took several moments for Arthur to piece everything together. "Merlin?"

Merlin kissed him and response and things escalated quickly after that...

"They say you are to be king one day," Merlin said afterwards, wiggling in Arthur's embrace to face him.

Arthur nodded and Merlin moved closer to kiss him again. "Then I will be there to help you carry the burden."

* * *

**26**

Merlin was rather unaware of how he got into his current situation. He knew that he and Arthur had been on a quest to find a special jewel of some sort. What he didn’t know, however, was how he ended up flat on his back on a cold stone floor.

He looked around the room for a means of escape. A slumped figure, which looked suspiciously like Gwaine, was across the room and Arthur was lying in a similar predicament to his left. Merlin noted the lack of doors and windows in the chamber. Merlin felt he _should_ be wondering how it was possible they were in here but, mostly, he was just annoyed.

He whispered a few spells to reveal any hidden doors and felt a slight push back. _Of course the room is magic. Why wouldn’t it be?_

“Hey, Prat!” He slapped Arthur’s face lightly.

“Urrggg” Arthur stirred.

“Get your princely arse up and get us out of here,” Merlin said, aggravated.

“Where are we? What happened?” Arthur sat up quickly once he noticed the surroundings.

“Is that Gwaine?” He looked up at Merlin, confused.

“Yeah. I don’t know why he’s here either. Are you surprised he’s found trouble though? Considering who he is?”

“No, I suppose not.” Arthur went over to Gwaine to nudge him with his boot. He turned over and grinned up at them.

“Hello, boys! What are you guys doing here?” He stood up and hugged Merlin tightly.

“I was honestly hoping you could tell us. What is this place?” Gwaine only shrugged in response.

Suddenly a bright light erupted from the center of the room. Merlin shielded his eyes from the harsh light until it died down. He was left with spots in his vision but he could slightly make out a giant flower sitting where the light had been. Something about it called for Merlin to touch it.

“ _Mer_ lin, you idiot! What are you doing?” Arthur yelled when he noticed Merlin moving to touch the nearest flower petal. He reached for Merlin’s arm but it was too late. The moment Merlin stroked the petal, a fine mist released from the center of the flower.

Merlin felt the effect immediately. His mind filled with fog. He suddenly _needed_ release, his cock was growing heavy.

Arthur moved and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s middle from behind and began kissing his neck.

“O-oh gods,” Merlin breathed. He was hypersensitive to the touch and he felt amazing. He felt his magic just beneath the surface of his skin, needing to be released. He let it go and sank into Arthur’s strong chest behind him. His magic caressed their bodies, bringing goosebumps on their skin. He felt warmth against his front and kissed Gwaine hard on the mouth, their tongues gliding together.

Arthur rutted his hardness on Merlin’s arse and Merlin couldn’t take it anymore. He willed their clothes away, not finding it within himself to care about using his magic so blatantly, and pressed both of their bodies closer to his own. They began kissing over his shoulder and he decided he needed someone inside of him. He let his magic slick his hole up and reached down to give Gwaine’s cock some attention. Gwaine moaned into the kiss he was sharing with Arthur and they turned their attention to Merlin.

“Bend over,” Arthur commanded. Merlin was happy to oblige. They separated and he got down on all fours. Arthur and Gwaine sank to their knees. Gwaine guided his cock to Merlin’s mouth and he eagerly took it to the hilt. He bobbed his head, swirling his tongue around the shaft. Gwaine shuttered and moaned to the ceiling.

Arthur entered Merlin and he nearly passed out. He felt deliciously full and hot. Gwaine’s hands were tangled in his hair and he was thrusting roughly into his mouth. Arthur’s hands were digging into his sides hard enough to leave bruises, his cock sliding, frictionless into Merlin’s wet hole. He could feel his orgasm building and moaned around Gwaine’s cock. Gwaine grasped Merlin’s chin and held his head in place while he came down Merlin’s throat. Merlin greedily licked up every drop.

Arthur continued to thrust into him until he shifted slightly, brushing against Merlin’s prostate. Merlin’s orgasm tore out of him, his cum spilling onto the stone floor. He could barely keep himself up as Arthur slammed inside of him, cumming with a startled cry.

Merlin lay on the floor, breathing heavily, until he felt the fog clear out of his mind. He stood up quickly, his face hot with embarrassment. He found his wide-eyed expression mirrored back at him from Gwaine and Arthur.

“What the _fuck_?!” they yelled in unison.

* * *

**27**

 

They stepped through the creaking door of the tavern, and Leon's nose was assaulted by beer souring on the floor.

"Are you certain we should be here?"

Gwaine moved easily in the peasant clothes he was wearing as a disguise - they were probably his own, Leon reflected ruefully. Unlike Leon, he seemed comfortable entering an empty village tavern, where sunlight (and other things) streamed down the walls.

"I'm certain I should, and you won't be turned away."

With that, he sauntered to a door behind the bar and knocked, two quick raps.

"If that's you, you scoundrel, come in!" shouted a woman's voice.

Leon blinked and felt his face heat. Gwaine had brought him to cover for an _assignation_.

\---

"Mary, this is my friend Leon. Leon, Mary."

Mary was a short, round woman with sharp eyes. She sized Leon up in a moment. "So now you're bringing me nobles? Has he ever done this before?"

_Bringing you-?_ Leon mouthed, but Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hasn't worked a real day in his life, me love. Needs a bit of breaking in."

"I can imagine," Mary said. The heat in her gaze said she imagined quite a lot.

Leon blushed.

"Well then," she clapped, turning her attention suddenly away. "Pies won't bake themselves!"

" _What are we doing here_ ," Leon hissed to Gwaine while Mary pulled a live chicken out of its cage.

"I may have busted the place up, a while back. I promised her one day of work a month for 3 years to make up for it. And to bring round any friends who were easy on the eyes and might not be terrible at chopping wood and toting things."

Leon wasn't sure if he was more flustered at 'easy on the eyes' or the declaration that he and Gwaine were friends.

\---

"Chop 'em real small," Mary said, measuring out buttermilk precisely in an old cup that had clearly served that purpose for many decades. "Carrots ain't doing well this year, we'll have to stretch 'em."

Leon did so. The chopping knife was echoed by a fainter sound from outside - Gwaine splitting wood. Gwaine, banished from the kitchen for not following directions. Meanwhile Leon, who'd never done this before, was praised for doing "exactly what I tell you - yes, just like that."

The kitchen was hot, but it smelled delicious as Mary unrolled crusts over the first two meat pies and set them on a tray.

"So," she said, backing out of the stone oven, "you a friend of his, then?"

"Comrade in arms," Leon corrected, then wondered. Gwaine had said 'friend', hadn't he? "I... suppose we're friends. Or trying to be."

She nodded. "Good luck with that one. He flits in and out of here like he does with everyone."

Leon wanted to argue, to defend Gwaine's constancy, but.... Loyal, yes. Constant? That was harder to say.

Did Leon require constancy, from friends? It wasn't a question he'd ever had to ask before.

\---

"There we are!" Mary pulled the last pie from the oven and set it inside a cupboard to cool (when Leon had asked, she'd muttered about flies, so he'd stopped asking).

Gwaine, hauling a barrel of cider up from the cellar, paused and flipped his hair out of his face. "That's it, then?"

Leon's belly dropped. He wasn't sure why he was disappointed, but Gwaine's smile at being freed was genuine.

"Two hours before opening," Mary confirmed, smirking. Leon's belly swooped.

\---

"Ever done this before, lad?"

Leon murmured a negative against her thigh.

She chuckled. "I'll talk you through, then. You're good at doing as your told."

"Oy," Gwaine said, spooning her and leaning back against the headboard, his hands playing with her breasts. "You like it when I'm creative."

"And I like it when he follows directions."

Leon hid a smile.

"Now, you've got a beard - good choice that-"

"Thanks," Gwaine said.

"-so use it. Some women will think it's too much, but I like a bit of rough. Get in there, lad, not just your tongue - oh! Yes, like that. Very," she breathed, "ooooooh."

Leon felt her hands tangle in his hair, but he hardly cared at this point, straining against the mattress, pressing furious against her wet heat with his whole face, as if he could bury himself in it.

Then he felt a third hand, long-fingered, curl around the back of his neck.

Gwaine's voice was so hoarse it cracked. "Told ya you wouldn't be turned away."

* * *

**28**

“We've been just fine without you, so you can teleport right away,” Merlin says, waving his arms as if trying to get rid of annoying insect.

“It's orbing.”

“What?” Merlin asks.

“The teleporting is called orbing.”

“I don't care what it's called. We don't need any Whitelighter,” Merlin says.

“Maybe we should at least concider,” Mordred starts, but Merlin doesn't let him finish.

“We're doing just fine.”

“A month ago you claimed Power of Three was bullshit, and here we are, defeating monsters together every other day,” Gilli jumps in.

“Doesn't mean we need a prattish angel,” Merlin grumbles. “What's your name again?”

“I'm Arthur,” the Whitelighter says, smiling at him.

*

“Mordred, Gilli, I need help here,” Merlin shouts, adrenalin from the fight still coursing his veins. “What the hell are you trying to prove?” he directs in Arthur's direction, tearing the shirt around the arrow sticking out of Arthur's torso.

“I'm here to protect you,” Arthur says, his face pale.

“Darklighter's poison isn't lethal for sorcerers, but it could kill you. He wasn't going after me, you stupid prat with a savior complex the size of British Islands.”

“I'm not sure if my healing magic is strong enough,” Gilli says, kneeling down beside them.

“You need to trust in yourself more,” Mordred says, pressing two fingers against Arthur's brow, sending him to sleep.

“Did you really need to bring Gwaine into this?” Merlin asks while Gilli concentrates on his task.

“He just wants to help,” Mordred says.

“He's a demon.”

They had this conversation so many times, Merlin stopped counting. It's not like he can stop his brother from seeing Gwaine.

“It's not like we can choose who we love, no matter the rules. You of all people should understand,” Mordred says.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Merlin deflects, looking down at the steady rise and fall of Arthur's chest.

*

“I can't orb out of here,” Arthur says.

“Useless,” Merlin hisses, closing his eyes and calling forth his magic, except… it doesn't respond. He tries again and again. Nothing.

He opens his eyes, feeling panic rise inside him.

“Calm down,” Arthur says, placing his hands on Merlin's shoulders. “We'll figure it out. We always do.”

The way he says 'we' makes Merlin feel all warm inside.

*

They fall asleep against the wall, huddling together to share body heat.

*

Merlin jolts awake, feeling a tug inside his mind.

“What's going on?” Arthur asks, sleepy.

“I feel something,” Merlin says, the urge to go distracting him from telling Arthur more.

He walks through the tunnels, Arthur following him closely. They arrive at a dead end, Merlin's head ringing with the force of the foreign call. He presses his right hand to his temple, pain-filled exhale leaving his lips, steadying himself by pressing his other palm against the wall in front of him.

Next moment, the wall is gone.

*

“What do you think it is?” Arthur asks.

Merlin doesn't answer, fascinated by the weirdly shaped stone in front of him. He lifts his hand to touch. Arthur tries to stop him, but Merlin evades him, his fingertips connecting with the cool smooth surface.

Series of images flash through Merlin's mind, foreign yet familiar. A surge of power soars through his limbs, making him cry out and fall to his knees.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouts, kneeling beside him.

“Aithusa,” Merlin breathes out.

The stone cracks open. A little white dragon stretches its wings for the first time.

*

Things escalate quickly.

Five demons teleport inside the cave. His usual powers are still locked away, but he can feel something new build up under his skin.

“Don't touch him!” he orders, his voice echoing in the vast cave. Arthur stands beside him, ready to defend him with all his strength, unaware of the change Merlin's going through.

The demons ignore his words.

“Your choice,” Merlin says and unleashes the wave of pure power, primal and ruthless.

It tears through the demons, not giving them enough time for a single scream.

Drunk on power, Merlin pulls Arthur close, sealing their lips with a kiss. It's wild and all-encompassing, just like the force radiating from Merlin. Long repressed desires are freed and they make love for the first time on the magically softened floor of the dragon cave, the power slowly retreating inside the hidden place in Merlin's mind, making room for soft kisses and pleasure.

*

“What do you mean that dragonlords can get pregnant?!” Merlin yells at rapidly retreating Arthur.

* * *

**29**

Gwaine has a lot of threesomes, he knows, even for someone who knows a lot of couples and has a reputation for being generally sexually flexible. That doesn't mean he's expecting it when he's round for tea with Elyan and Vivian and halfway through the second course - because Vivian insists on doing dinner _properly_ \- she announces, "You should fuck Elyan while he eats me out."

Gwaine chokes on a mouthful of chicken. Elyan puts his head in his hands.

"Vivian," he says, muffled. "We talked about this."

"Subtlety never got anyone laid," Vivian says matter-of-factly. She looks at Gwaine, assessing. "Do you want to? We can just pretend I never said anything if you don't."

Gwaine shakes his head violently, swallows hard and says, "No, yes, I want to," and Vivian grins.

*

Gwaine's been in their bedroom before, but never under these circumstances. The silk sheets - Vivian - and abstract art on the walls - Elyan - look entirely different now. He tries not to think about his friends having sex, as a rule, but now they're all naked, they're all naked on Elyan and Vivian's bed, and Gwaine sort of thinks it's allowed.

Vivian reaches out to him, and he goes, easy. He'd been waiting to be told what to do, anyway; he's always careful not to overstep. She winds a hand into his hair, kisses him, and yeah, okay, Gwaine can do it like this if they're doing it like this. He deepens the kiss, stroking soft thumbs down her side, and she makes an approving noise into his mouth.

"I'm going to get him ready for you," she says, and Elyan drops his head to her shoulder and bites gently down.

Vivian hands Gwaine a condom as she gets out the lube, squirting it into her palm. Elyan rolls onto his stomach for her, going back over his knees, and she slides one wet finger inside him. He makes a noise, a bit more than an exhalation of breath.

"Good?" she asks, and doesn't add another finger until he says, "Yeah."

"Now you," she says to Gwaine when she's done, and lies back.

She watches as Gwaine eases into Elyan, hands folded neatly on her chest, waiting. Elyan's back arches, and he pushes back against Gwaine, and Gwaine holds himself still for a minute, just enjoying how Elyan feels around him, before he starts moving.

He goes slow, because Vivian didn't say not to, and Gwaine likes taking his time. Elyan moans, and Vivian pulls him down, puts his mouth right on her, holds his head just there.

"Fuck," Gwaine breathes, "that’s hot," and Vivian tries to laugh, but it gets lost in a moan of her own.

Gwaine moves faster, now. Vivian's pulling Elyan into her, and Elyan's pushing back against Gwaine, and the three of them are rocking together, points of a triangle flowing into each other to make an ellipse.

When Vivian comes, loud and drawn out, it throws off Gwaine's entire rhythm, but he doesn't think he's ever minded less. A few thrusts later, and he's coming, too. He pulls out, flops down on the bed next to Vivian, Elyan now lying between them.

"I'm glad you two enjoyed yourselves," Elyan says, dry, and Vivian laughs.

"Get him off however you like," Vivian says to Gwaine, "I'm enjoying my afterglow," and Gwaine is only too happy to oblige.

This is usually the point where he'd flip Elyan over, swallow him down, but he pulls Elyan up to him instead. He wants to know what Elyan will taste like with Vivian lingering in his mouth and, besides, there's nothing like the closeness of someone's body along the length of yours.

Elyan doesn't kiss anything like Vivian. He rubs up against Gwaine's stomach, little jerks like he's not conscious of doing it.

"Go on," Vivian says, and Gwaine gets a hand in between them, closes firm around Elyan's dick. He'll get a cramp at this angle, but it means he gets to keep kissing Elyan, feel the weight of him. He'll live.

Elyan's nearly silent when he comes, a breath into Gwaine's mouth, hot wet into Gwaine's hand. Gwaine's prepared for the loss of Elyan on top of him, but it doesn't come.

"We have to do this again," Elyan says, and Vivian says, "I _told_ you it was a good idea," and Gwaine just presses his face into Elyan's neck and laughs.


	7. Group C (No Warnings)

**30.**

"You can't annoy me into having sex with you, Gwaine."

"Well now you're just making it sound like a challenge. And I _love_ challenges," Gwaine says with a flutter of his eyelashes and an obvious head-to-toe leer.

Lance sighs deeply.

Week 1

Gwaine beams at Lance, face streaked with mud and hair falling out of his ponytail, bloody and euphoric after their rugby match in a way that has no right to be attractive.

Lance doesn’t think about how Gwaine's abs must look right now, heaving and sweaty. Gwaine is annoying, if aesthetically pleasing, which is really just a universally acknowledged fact, on both counts.

"So, what do you say about coming back to my place?"

"Already have plans, Gwaine."

"Aw, c'mon, it'll be fun! And as long as I have a face, you'll have a place to sit." Gwaine waggles his eyebrows.

Lance huffs and walks off. 

Gwaine is ridiculous, and his lame chat-up lines are not cute or endearing, and Lance will not spend the rest of the night thinking about sitting. At all.

Week 2

"Gwaine, _Gwaine_ , stop that."

Of course Gwaine only smirks and spreads his legs wider as he leans back, his shirt rucked up enough that Lance can see every second of him stroking idly at the happy trail leading into his low-slung jeans. So low-slung in fact that Lance can just get a hint of the thick hatch of hair above the button.

He's not wearing pants.

That's just-- That's just _something_. It's something, alright.

"Wha? I'm not doing anything," Gwaine says as his fingertip slips down underneath the waistband carelessly. The _cheeky_ …

He's driving Lance absolutely _mental_ , is what he is.

Week 3

Lance is going to climb the _bloody walls_ if Gwaine doesn't stop. He is losing his goddamn mind.

"Fuck," he swears, loudly, and Gwaine's eyes glimmer.

"Oooh, what's this I hear, the ever proper Lancelot cursing?"

Lance growls. "Seriously, Gwaine, will you just _fuck off_?"

"I'd rather you fuck me," he says, pushing suddenly into Lance's space, overwhelming and undeniably _there_ , the scent and feel of him too close, and Lance's hands clench so tightly into fists that they shake.

Gwaine is so, _so_ \-- " _Fuck_ ," he swears again and hauls Gwaine in by the nape of his neck.

If Lance is being honest as he bites into Gwaine's mouth, he almost expects Gwaine to smirk or gloat, but Gwaine doesn't, he only scrabbles at Lance's shirt, fingers sliding under and callouses catching in a way that makes Lance's entire body shudder, and whimpers, throaty and high-pitched, mumbling, "Yeah, _yeah_ ," in between kisses.

"Do you have any idea," Gwaine continues as he shoves at Lance's shirt until it's off and on the ground, "how bleeding gorgeous you are like this? I knew you would be."

Lance grapples with Gwaine's jeans, pulse thundering in his ears while he tries to suck in desperately needed air, the room narrowed down to nothing but the feel of Gwaine underneath his hands.

Then Gwaine is stepping back and pulling Lance along with him in a rush, shucking off his shirt and kicking his pants off. "C'mon, need you to fuck me, I've been thinking about it for _months_ , you beautiful, stubborn bastard," he pants into Lance's ear, and there's not much Lance can do about that but grab Gwaine by the waist and throw him onto the bed.

Gwaine sprawls loose-limbed and glorious over the sheets, muscles heaving and ruddy with exertion, cock as thick and gorgeous as Lance had not been fantasising about.

Someday he's going to suck on that cock until he chokes and Gwaine actually forgets how to talk for once. But for now he climbs up the bed and grabs Lance by the hair.

"Open up."

*

"I think I've worked up an appetite. Might need a nap first, though."

Lance groans. "Ge' out," he mumbles into the pillow.

"Nah," Gwaine says with a back-arching stretch that Lance can't help but follow, anticipation unfurling low in his belly. "I think I like you like this, all messy and fucked, and I'm rather comfortable at the moment, I must say. Don't plan to go anywhere, to be honest, not for a long time."

Lance nearly retorts with something sarcastic, because that's what Gwaine does to him apparently, brings out all those thoughts he's spent his life ignoring, but there's something soft and genuine in Gwaine's smile, the kind of smile no one's ever given him before, so he just curses and pulls Gwaine into him for a post-shag cuddle.

The arsehole.

* * *

**31.**

A staircase on the right led Merlin up to a dimly lit corridor. Painted on the first door he reached was a large, gold number one. He looked down at the smooth black key with the golden number three etched on it and carried on, his grip slick with sweat. Gwaine, drunk and grinning, had told him about the club a couple of months ago. “Mate, you’ve got to be ready for _anything_. Last time I was there, I was tied to the bed and two girls with strap-ons took turns fucking me blind.”

Merlin’s stomach clenched at the thought as he stopped in front of number three. He’d fantasised about this room since Gwaine’d told him about it, thought of a hundred different scenarios waiting behind the door when it swung open. All he had to do was open it. Surrender himself.

Pulse thundering, he pressed the key to the rectangular shape in the door until here was a loud click. Merlin pushed the door open, stepped inside and jumped when the door slammed shut.

The room was dimly lit in a soft yellow light, illuminating a large, broad-shouldered man kneeling on the floor, thighs so thick Merlin almost swallowed his tongue. His hands were curled around another set of fantastic thighs as he had his mouth fucked, lips red and spit-slicked. Merlin’s blood roared in his ears, hands shaking.

The bloke fucking his mouth brushed a thumb across his cheek, choked voice saying, “So perfect for me, Percy,” and Merlin’s gut flooded with greedy need. He wanted the blond bloke to say his name, just like that, sex spilling out of his hot mouth. The bloke turned his head and held Merlin’s gaze as he gave a particularly deep thrust that Percy took with a wet moan.

He slipped out of Percy’s mouth, said, “our company’s here,” and Percy got to his feet, smiling. Shit, he was tall, his dick fat and hard. When Percy strode towards him, Merlin watched it move with every step.

When they both undressed him, bodies close, a voice brushing his ear said, “I’m Arthur.” Their hands lingered on his hips, on his chest, near the base of his steadily hardening cock.

“’m Merlin,” he managed before Percy slipped his tongue into his mouth.

He was kissing back, urgent, when Arthur’s hand cupped his arse, fingers moving to press at his hole. They slid in easily and Arthur let out a surprised breath when Merlin bucked into it.

“God, yeah, you’ve prepared for this.” Arthur nipped at his jaw. “Do you want to get fucked tonight?”

Merlin nodded, panting against Percy’s mouth.

“Percy’s cock feels amazing up your arse. He’ll fuck you good.”

A thrill of anticipation raced up his spine and he buried his face into Percy’s neck, his skin oversensitive under their fleeting touches.

Even though there was a bed, they pushed Merlin to his knees on the slightly padded carpet. His cheeks flamed with heat as he tried to calm his shallow breath, thighs shaking as he waited. Percy mounted him from behind, his thick cock pushing in until he was buried in Merlin’s arse, his solid presence so overwhelming that Merlin took two great, gulping breaths.

Percy’s cock fucking into him with hard thrusts as his hole took it, wet and greedy and ready. He rocked back on it giving strangled noises when his arse clenched around the girth, his cock dripping onto the carpet below as he was pounded, taken and used so good.

He was losing track of anything but the feeling of dick in his arse when his open, panting mouth was stuffed full with Arthur’s cock. It slid roughly over his tongue as Arthur’s fingers tangled into his hair and Arthur didn’t stop until Merlin was nearly choking on it, mouth spread wide at the base. He was pushed forwards and Arthur moaned above him, fingers tightening.

It felt like his body belonged to someone else, like he didn’t know himself. He licked sloppily at Arthur’s dick, loved the taste of it on his tongue.

“Fuck, such a good mouth,” Arthur said, fucking in with a sharp roll of his hips. “You fucking his arse good?”

Percy’s only reply was a loud groan as he slammed in, filling Merlin with his come. Merlin’s shout was muffled by the cock in his mouth. He looked up, and his whole body shook when Arthur, eyes heavy with lust, groaned, “Merlin.”

* * *

**32.**

“Oh, don't _sulk_ , darling, it's only going to be three days or so.”

Elyan doesn't dignify that with a response. He's trapped in the cockpit of a ship heading for deep space with two of the most notorious thieves in the galaxy piloting, he is very much entitled to a sulk.

“Maybe he's worried we're not going to entertain him,” says Tristan, with a wicked grin, and pulls Isolde into his lap. “Don't worry, officer, we've got plans.”

“Yes, you do. You've had them the last two times you ended up kidnapping me as well.”

Isolde just laughs and grinds down into her husband's lap. “Well, third time's the charm? You could turn down taking on cases where you know we'll just foil you. No one could blame you. Admit it, you miss us when we aren't around.”

Elyan looks at the instrument panel. It's handprint-access, or he would already have them turned around. He's quite good with ships, but it's hard to hack biometrics. “The two of you are officially under arrest,” he points out.

“Yes, well, we'll stay that way until we've had time to fence our goods.” Tristan meets Isolde's movements with a little thrust of his own, and then he raises his eyebrows at Elyan until he turns away. “And then you're welcome to get off at the nearest port or come have a lovely vacation with us.”

“A vacation. You do know I'd get fired.” And Gwen would never forgive him, which is just about enough to outweigh temptation. He doesn't get to wander much these days. It could be nice.

“Your brother-in-law owns a planet,” Isolde points out. She's found a rhythm now, pressing down against her husband's thighs, cheeks turning pink. They've never been quite this blatant about it before, but Elyan can't make himself look away either. “I think you could keep your job if you _really_ wanted.”

“You could chase us as far as you please. A difficult field assignment, you—ah, fuck.” Tristan meets Elyan's eyes over Isolde's shoulder. “You could join in, if you like.”

Elyan knows himself well enough to admit that it's a good offer. There's still adrenaline in his system from that fight that got him dragged onto their ship and out of orbit again, and both of them are attractive and they want him. They've made that clear. “Have I got quarters to myself again?”

“No, come on, stay a while.” Isolde reaches a hand down so she's rubbing against it when she isn't rubbing against Tristan's clothed erection, and Elyan tries not to look. “We'll stop any time you tell us to stop.” She grins and then gasps as Tristan leans forward and bites gently at her neck. “The sex, I mean. Not the crime. I'm sure you know how likely that is.”

Considering they were notorious long before Elyan got on the right side of the law, it's not very likely, but Elyan's always been fond of a lost cause. “You aren't going to be able to fence those panels, you know. The whole galaxy will know they're gone by now.”

Tristan scoffs. “As though the panels are the point. They're just a nice distracting high-profile target. Really, you're smarter than that.” Isolde does something that makes him gasp and move up into her. From everything on their faces, they might as well not have the polite barrier of their clothes between them. “Besides, if we hadn't done something so high-profile, we wouldn't have run across you.”

“And we'd hate to miss you,” says Isolde. Her breathing is higher and shakier now. She's already ready to go over, after almost no time at all, when they're still accelerating out of Camelot's gravity.

“I can't believe you. Are you getting arrested on purpose?”

“Well, no. We're escaping with a hostage.” Isolde makes a high, pained noise. “Come on, just a little more.”

Three days out in deep space before they make whatever port they deem safe to drop him at, and it doesn't seem like they plan to make it easy for him to resist this time. They're enjoying themselves, and they're gorgeous, arched into each other, both of them putting on a show in the pilot's seat.

It might be one of the worse ideas Elyan's ever had, but he loosens his belt and slips his hand inside his trousers, gets a grip on his cock.

“What did I tell you? Third time's always the charm,” Isolde crows, and comes gasping.

* * *

**33.**

There were three things Arthur never did - apologize, beg, or hope.

~*~

He had desperately been afraid of this moment for years, but now that Uther had found out - and in the worst way possible, catching Arthur balls deep in his best friend Leon - all Arthur could feel was an immense feeling of relief. 

His father had turned as white as a sheet briefly, but no sound had escaped his lips. After he a second, he merely turned on his heel and the door shut behind him with a soft click. 

After an hour, Arthur had trudged towards his father’s study, prepared for his father’s rage and insults. Instead, his father had said nothing at all for several minutes. He kept staring down at his immaculately organized mahogany desk as Arthur tried his best not to fidget. 

When he finally spoke it was with a practiced detachment. “I will not have a monster for a son. We can try to put this abhorrent moment in the past, and you will never engage in such activities again, or you can continue your deviant behavior elsewhere.” 

To Arthur’s surprise, he didn’t even need to think about it. He wasn’t going to apologize for who he was anymore. 

As he walked out of his father’s home, with only the clothes on his bag, and looked back at his father’s cold expression, he knew he’d never see him again.

~*~

The red-headed man’s beefy hands clutched around Arthur’s throat. “Do you want me to stop?”

Arthur grasped at the man’s hands lightly, but shook his head. 

The man chuckled and squeezed harder.

Gerald was a regular of Arthur’s and always liked to make Arthur squirm, but no matter how rough he was, Arthur never begged him to stop. 

This was Arthur’s life now. He’d actually managed to make quite a nice life for himself, prostituting himself. He seemed to fit a niche that the men who prowled the streets of Camelot had been looking for. 

No matter what depraved act they wanted down, Arthur was the man for the job. He’d participated in more than a few gangbangs. Men tied him up, whipped him, pissed on him. He’d even had some who wanted him to play dead. He did it all with a sense of detachment that would make his father proud.

There were times it got to him, times that he found himself reaching for the phone, itching to call his father, but he always stopped himself. He would never beg his father to accept him.

~*~

Arthur didn’t understand how Merlin could be real. Merlin had just entered him, just as gently as ever, and the way he was looking down at him, made him feel things inside he didn’t want to think about.

Merlin was half the age of all of Arthur’s regular customers. When Merlin had approached Arthur he was sure he was just having a laugh, but as long as Merlin had the money, Arthur didn’t question it too much.

Arthur was sure Merlin must have been a virgin, he was so tentative their first time, but Arthur soon discovered that was just the way Merlin was. He treated Arthur like precious glass and always looked into his eyes and made him feel like he could see right through Arthur’s hard shell. After they were done, Merlin actually paid extra just to hold Arthur.

He would talk to Arthur, with Arthur barely saying anything, about his hopes for his future. He was sweet and kind and honest. When Merlin told Arthur he wanted to take him away from this, Arthur didn’t understand how he could be real. 

Initially, Arthur turned Merlin down, but Merlin kept coming back. This was the fifth time he’d asked. Arthur finally looked up into Merlin’s eyes and realized that he was truly sincere and for the first time in his life, Arthur started to hope.

* * *

**34.**

The first time Gwaine gets drunk, it’s on his father’s whisky.

What’s left of it, at least.

He downs the bottle and then looks down the throat. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to find there. He only sees a couple of drops left at the bottom, and the only thing he can think about is how they are the perfect depiction of how he feels.

His mother cries when she finds him.

x

The second time he gets drunk, he’s the one crying. That's all he remembers in the morning.

Elena stirrs next to him and wakes up soon after he has. He doesn't know how she ended up there, doesn't know what to expect, and isn't quite sure how to react when she lays her head on his shoulder and puts an arm over his chest. He feels nauseous and sticky and gross, but he doesn’t move away.

"What did I tell you?" Gwaine asks after a while.

Elena takes a deep breath, then releases. "It wasn’t your fault," she says.

Gwaine closes his eyes. He remembers the day - the fight and the police and the call home and the telling little slur in his father’s voice when he said he was _Coming over there_ and - and the bile in his throat threatens to make a mess of them both.

“It is my fault,” he manages to whisper.

Elena only holds him closer.

x

What he expects to be the third time turns into something entirely different.

He’s ready to protest when Elena grabs the drink from under his nose, but then he turns around and sees the man standing next to her.

“My new friend wants to dance with you,” she says with a smile. She winks and goes away, leaving Gwaine to stare at the stranger.

“I didn’t say anything about dancing,” the man says. His little smile is almost far too adorable for someone his size. “I’m Percy.”

“Gwaine,” he replies and shakes Percy’s hand. He pats the stool next to his and Percy sits.

“Can I get you another drink?” Percy asks. 

Gwaine thinks about it for a second, but then refuses. He feels he’d rather not forget this time around.

x

“Percival.”

The whisper gets Gwaine a groan in response. He laughs.

“Don’t,” Percy says, then lets out a little moan when Gwaine pushes his fingers deeper inside of him.

“Sorry,” Gwaine says and presses a small kiss to Percy’s inner thigh. He moves up to his cock and abdomen and kisses him all over, moans at the way it makes Percy clench around his fingers and ask for more. He wonders if someone’s ever taken the time to be like this with Percival before, listen for his little cues and follow them until he trembles.

“I really love your name, you know,” he says after a while.

“It’s not the sexiest name in the universe,” Percy mumbles.

“I happen to find it really sexy,” Gwaine says. He lets Percy wraps his legs around his waist as he sinks into him. “A gorgeous name for a gorgeous man.”

“Gwaine,” Percy whines and hides his face under his forearm. 

The ache Gwaine feels at the sight is far too familiar. But it’s different, getting to witness the struggle that is loving any little bit of yourself from the other end.

He leans down to press a kiss to Percy’s chest and Percy immediately pulls him closer. 

“Please, Gwaine, I...”

Gwaine thrusts into him lets himself get drunk on Percy’s moans, on the way Percy clings to him harder after every praise that slips off Gwaine’s lips.

When Percy dozes off later, still holding Gwaine in his arms, Gwaine dares hope. 

Maybe it _is_ none of their fault. Maybe one day they could love each other without needing the other to hold them together.

* * *

**35.**

Three would be Vivian’s unlucky number, had she not been born lucky.

She would always get sick if she ate three apples; if she spent enough time surrounded by exactly two other people, wine would inexplicably end up all over her robes, in spite of her grace, or some fool would accidentally throw a knife at her – and be thrown in the dungeons – or she would trip and fall into a table on the third dance. 

Certainly her third suitor was the most annoying of all.

She was three months old when her mother died; three years old when a maid hissed at her she was a spoilt brat, and no wonder her mother had given up so soon.

Vivian had decided right then and there, stomping her tiny feet, that she was never going to listen to anyone ever again.

So when she was thrown off her horse on her third ride and almost drowned on her third swim, she made a point out of doing everything three times; she was certainly not going to let such a small number get the better of her. 

*

The third time she fell in love was rather unexpected. One moment, she felt quite clearly that he was a fool, and the next, her eyes were opened and he seemed to walk the halls surrounded by a golden halo. 

She had never been in love with a man, hadn’t thought it possible, but such a tiny detail wouldn’t sway Vivian from her path. 

She made it her mission to convince her father to let her go back, and at last, he relented. He tried to feed her some story about Arthur being dead, but she knew it couldn’t be true. Vivian wanted Arthur, and she always got what she wanted, in the end.

*

The Queen refused to let her see Arthur, told her the same story her father had. Vivian could see right through her, and insisted on staying.

“Very well,” Gwen said, looking like she was carrying the weight of the kingdom around. Honestly, some people did not know the meaning of the word “fun”.

Vivian got bored on the third day; it wasn’t quite clear whether this was unlucky for her or for everyone else, for her boredom pushed her to seek out anyone who might know the king, and yell at them, at length. This usually worked a charm. 

Gwen said, “I really do feel sorry for you”, then very politely asked her to leave. Vivian did not dignify that with a response. 

*

When shouting and insulting didn’t work – she tried it out for some time to be very sure – she didn’t give up.

“You look very tired, my queen,” she said, one evening.

“I’m sorry, do you think we could do this a different time? Only I have a kingdom to run.” Gwen tried to get away from her – again – but Vivian smiled her gentlest smile.

“Of course, your majesty, I understand. I just want to help you relax. Don’t you ever feel lonely, with Arthur gone?” Vivian could play along, just for a little bit.

Gwen blinked at her, wary. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I too know loneliness. Perhaps we could keep each other company?”

Gwen was too polite to say no.

It turned out she was too polite to say no when Vivian kissed her, too, gasping a little in surprise, frowning; Vivian kissed the frown away. “Let me take care of you,” Vivian said, because that’s what Dee, her maid, always said to her. Perhaps Vivian should organise a better maid for Gwen, too, because she looked a curious mix of exhausted and wondering when Vivian lifted her skirts.

There was nothing polite about the way she licked Gwen’s cunt. Gwen smelled delightful; perhaps she smelled a little like Arthur, Vivian thought, and ate her out hungrily. Mostly, she tasted like a woman. Gwen was quiet for a long time, but Vivian could feel the tremor build; Gwen moaned and dug her fingers into the sheets before coming, riding up into Vivian’s mouth, chasing her pleasure. After, she looked at Vivian with something like wonder.

Vivian smirked. “See, I knew we would become fast friends. We’re going to be so happy together, the three of us, don’t you think? So when is Arthur coming back?” 

Gwen sighed, slumping back, and held her gently when she curled into Gwen’s arms. 

Vivian felt content. 

She was finally going to make three her lucky number.

* * *

**36.**

"Merlin," Arthur said, "What on earth are you doing?"

Merlin looked up. "Washing your feet, what does it look like I'm doing?" He held up the wash cloth as if to prove his point.

Arthur scooted back in the tub, sloshing the water about. "You were… wiggling… my toes."

Merlin blinked. "Well, yes. This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home."

Arthur stared at him. "What are you going on about?"

"You know! The little piggies," Merlin said, as if that explained anything at all.

"What piggies? You're giving me a bath, not rabbiting on about swine."

Now it was Merlin's turn to stare. "Did nobody ever do 'This little piggy' on your toes, Arthur?"

"Clearly not," Arthur said. "Whatever ridiculous peasant thing you're talking about. My feet are not 'piggies,'"

Merlin took hold of one of Arthur's feet again. "This is how you do it. 'This little piggy went to market," he said, wiggling one toe, "and this little piggy stayed home."

Arthur scoffed.

"This little piggy ate roast beef," Merlin continued, "And this little piggy had none. And this little piggy went 'wee wee wee,' all the way home." With that, he kissed the littlest toe, and put Arthur's foot down.

As they curled into bed, Arthur leaned to kiss Merlin, just behind his ear.

“I think I need a reminder,” he murmured.

“Of what?” Merlin asked.

“The bit about the pigs. What was it?”

Merlin took his hand before saying, “This little piggy went to market...” and going through, finger by finger, to lay a kiss on his pinky. “But you should only do it on toes.”

“Of course,” Arthur said. “Though while I'm learning I should practice as much as I can.”

“Mm,” Merlin agreed. “First knight's got to be good at everything, hasn't he?”

“So lay back and let me practice,” Arthur said. He scooted over Merlin to push him onto his back.

“Now,” he said. “This little piggy,” and he kissed one ear, “went to market.” He licked the edge, nibbled the lobe, sucked it into his mouth to make Merlin gasp.

“This had better not be a lead-in to a terrible sow's ear joke,” Merlin said, and Arthur only delved his tongue into Merlin's ear, making Merlin's cock harden against his leg.

“Of course not,” Arthur said. “Now what came next?”

“Stayed home.”

“This little piggy stayed home,” Arthur corrected, and went to work on Merlin's nipples. Merlin buried his hands in Arthur's hair, yanked at it to hear Arthur's gasp of pleasure/pain.

Finally Arthur pulled back. “Next?”

“-Ate, oh Arthur really?”

“What was it?” Arthur asked, all false innocence.

“Ate roast beef, and you know it you prat.” Merlin said.

“That's right. This little piggy ate roast beef,”Arthur said, and with a shit-eating grin, inched downwards.

“Arthur, you giant cocksucker, only you would turn nursery rhymes into a- oooh- a blowjob, dear god don't stop.”

“It's all for the learning process,” Arthur insisted, but Merlin grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back down.

“Back to the roast beef,” Merlin said. “Yes, like that,” and he pushed his hips forward, holding Arthur's head to fuck his mouth. Arthur gasped around Merlin's cock, almost gagged on it, drooled until Merlin's balls were wet. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were flushed, and perverse use of childhood memories or not, Merlin had never seen anything so hot as Arthur's lips tight around his cock.

He came harder than all ten piggies combined, and through the haze he saw streaks of white on Arthur's face, dripping from his lips, on his fingers as he milked him through the end of his orgasm.

“So,” said Arthur a few minutes later, “which little piggy stayed home?”

* * *

**37.**

_\- fucking Maldonado clipped me, he clipped me at Rascasse -_

_We'll look into it, Arthur, keep pushing, keep pushing, damage is minimal, you still have one lap to go._

_I won't make it boys. We've lost it._

_We're still in line for a podium, keep pushing -_

Everyone else is still at the afterparty, but Arthur opens his hotel door and breathes a brief sigh of relief. No more post-mortem for the evening. He can just go to bed and forget that he had pole position at Monaco for the first time ever and led the race, was purple in every sector - and came third because one of the back markers couldn't obey the fucking blue flags. 

Yeah, he can definitely forget that. 

But when he gets inside the bedside lights are on. And waiting on the bed are his race engineer and front jack man. A.k.a. Merlin and Percy. His … friends, according to the tabloids.

'C'mere,' says Merlin, beckoning. 

'I don't wanna talk about it.'

'We figured,' Percy rumbles. 'We're not here to talk.' He smiles, and pulls Arthur onto his lap as soon as he's within arm's reach.

'We're gonna have a little race of our own,' Merlin croons into Arthur's ear, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, 'and this time, you're gonna come first.'

Arthur would groan at the awful joke, but it's 3am and he's tired and the feeling of fingers on his skin and Percy's cock under him is too good for complaints. He sags back and lets them undress him, lets Percy tip him forward onto his hands and knees, feeling hot and lazy under Percy's touch. He gets so wide-open, when Percy's pushing his tongue in sloppy like this, he aches and it takes his mind off everywhere else that hurts post-race, body and mind. 

Merlin pulling out his cock gets him to look up. 'There you are,' Merlin says, smiling softly. 'I've got something for you.' Arthur focuses muzzily. Hungrily. 'Yeah,' Merlin murmurs. He stands up, lets his jeans fall. Arthur noses forward, and Merlin catches him by the hinge of his jaw, feeds him his cock. 

Arthur softens his mouth and lets that velvet weight slide in, overwhelm him. His eyes roll back. Behind him Percy lets go with a wet, smacking noise. The mattress shifts. Merlin takes a firmer hold of Arthur, both hands, cupping his face and coaxing him to stay put, let Merlin fuck his mouth. And god, but it makes everything in Arthur surrender, belly down into the expensive sheets, ready. Engineered for this. 

'Steady,' says Percy behind him, in his low, gentle growl, and then it's blunt pressure at Arthur's hole. He has to breathe through his nose; wait, poised, knowing exactly what's about to happen and be ready to go with it. 

Percy's big. Percy's day job is to stand in front of a roaring F1 car and stop it in its tracks, and he stops Arthur in his tracks too, takes his weight, pushes into him. Arthur's knees spread unbidden, fighting to give Percy space, to let him take the advantage here, and Merlin slows his strokes until Arthur's numb with it, fucked from both ends, lit up like the Abu Dhabi circuit, nothing but bright lights and speed. 

They fuck him while he's moaning, high performance, perfect balance. The perfect athlete. He's fighting the hold Merlin has on him to get _more_ at the same time as he's trying to fuck back on Percy. They get the hint. Merlin pulls him in until Arthur's nose is flush with Merlin's belly and the sparse, wiry hair there, and Percy grunts and fucks him, harder and harder, until Arthur's panting and whining and coming, gasping for air as his cock jerks, finding release at that red-line limit he was born to toe.

He's a sweaty mess, as Merlin pulls free, lets him sag to the mattress, stroking himself until he comes over Arthur's upturned face. Arthur feels himself stir a little as the hot splashes fall. Then Percy comes in his arse a moment later, enormous dick twitching and god, even this fucked out Arthur could go again in half a moment, he'd swear, the feeling of Percy's come slicking the way as he pulls out. 

They clean him up, his pit crew. And as the Monaco lights turn from neon to dawn-pink, Arthur sleeps.

* * *

**38.**

The first time Arthur saw Merlin getting spanked was when he stayed with the Emrys family over the summer when he was 12. He peeped in through the kitchen door at Merlin’s bare bottom where he was lying over his mum’s lap. Three strikes, and then it was all over. As Merlin pulled his trousers back up, Arthur saw him wipe away a tear as his mother gently admonished him for whatever he’d done wrong. She then gave him a hug and went back to cooking dinner. Merlin didn’t mention it later, and Arthur never dared bring it up.

\---

The second time was in uni, when Arthur walked in on Merlin being spanked by his latest hook-up. When he opened the door the first thing he heard was a deep, slow moan. Rosy red and shining with sweat, Merlin’s arse was positioned so Arthur got the full view of it. The guy with Merlin across his lap just grinned widely and winked -- _winked!_ \-- at him. Arthur stood frozen for a few seconds too many before he managed to slam the door shut and run. He could hear Merlin shout something from inside the room, but didn’t stop to listen. 

Ten minutes later, he had taken refuge in a toilet stall near the campus library where he stayed for almost a full hour, confused and angry as hell. He didn’t want to know why he felt sick to his stomach, or why he had had that second of intense arousal as he had seen... No. No. Don’t think about it. Merlin’s his mate. They’ve known each other forever.

But Merlin’s bare, red arse had looked amazing, and the noise he had made... Swearing at the world at large and Merlin in particular, Arthur unbuttoned his trousers, stuck his hand in his pants and jerked off with no finesse at all. He came with a stuttering “f-f-fuck!” Afterwards, he leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and wished the ground would just swallow him whole.

But it didn’t, and the more he thought about the entire thing, the angrier he got, and the angrier he got, the more he wanted to shout and rave at Merlin for dragging home some unknown fucking _whore_ to _their_ room. _His_ room. _His_ Merlin.

Merlin was awake when he got back, even though it was after midnight. 

“Arthur...”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Merlin’s expression immediately changed from tired to defensive. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You-- Who the fuck was that?! Do you have to fuck the first long-haired freak that smiles at you? And why the fuck did you pick _that_ guy? He must be, like, ten years older than us!”

“Three years older, thank you very much.”

“Why the fuck would I care?!”

“Well, you clearly do!”

Arthur shoved him and Merlin let out a small “oof!” as his back hit the wall. He made a face as if it had hurt, but Arthur was angry enough to not care.

“You’re such a fucking slag, Merlin. You fuck everything that moves, don’t you?”

Arthur didn’t see the fist, and didn’t feel it until seconds after it had already connected with his nose. Merlin wasn’t big, but he was ferocious and not half-bad at fighting. Stumbling backwards, Arthur sat down on Merlin’s bed and touched his nose gingerly. It was bleeding.

“You’re a fucking dick,” Merlin said shakily and handed him a kitchen roll.

“Yeah,” Arthur conceded. He felt eerily calm, all of a sudden.

They sat quietly while Arthur tried to stem the blood flow.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Arthur looked up. “Tell you what?”

“That you want me.”

“I don’t--”

Merlin laughed softly. “Oh, please. You’ve ‘sneakily’ watched me undress for months. Will it make it easier if I tell you I want you too?”

Arthur swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me, then?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to get it. To do something.” Merlin shrugged, but looked a bit sheepish. “Plus, you’re a fucking dick, if you didn’t know.”

Arthur smiled.

\---

The third time Arthur saw Merlin getting spanked was in their dorm room. Arthur held down a writhing Merlin as he rubbed the blushing, sore arse cheek he’d just struck. He felt giddy with his new power, and bent down to bite and lick at the rosy skin.

“Ah! Arthur!”

“Yes?”

“Don’t– Ah, please, just...”

Arthur pinched him then, made him squirm even more. “Don’t worry. I will.”

* * *

**39.**

The first time, Gwaine was 14.

Morgana was older, thought her little brother’s friend was cute and entertained herself by ridding him of that pesky virginity thing.

Uther Pendragon had found out, marched him into his study half-dressed and still half-hard. “You’re underage. Stay away from my daughter.”

And then he’d caned him hard across the buttocks. Nobody had ever disciplined Gwaine, and when he brought himself off in the bathroom afterwards he wasn’t thinking of Morgana.

The second time, Gwaine was 16. 

He and Arthur had been experimenting in the summerhouse. Arthur’s arse was good and tight and they’d both been too loud.

“Stay away from my children,” Uther told him. He had the cane in his hands and Gwaine knew what was coming.

It was him, minutes later in the same bathroom, working his cock before the delicious sting of the blow had subsided. God, there was nothing hotter than the power of Arthur’s father. 

The third time, Gwaine was 18. 

He was restless, trying fruitlessly to satisfy his cravings. Perce had been strong enough to hurt with the belt Gwaine begged him to use, but too sweet-natured to be convincing.

Gwaine got drunk and went looking for Arthur. But Arthur wasn’t home, and Gwaine threw up in Uther’s flowerbed then fell asleep on the porch. Uther found him, demanded he clean up then come to his study. 

“Discipline,” Uther told him. “That’s what you need.”

There was something about the way Uther said it, the way the word rolled off his tongue like warm honey. Gwaine couldn’t quite supress a shiver. 

“I have needs,” Gwaine whispered. Nobody was adventurous enough, hungry enough for him. Depraved enough, Perce had said, but it didn’t feel like a depravity.

Uther looked him in the eye. Calm, controlled. Older, experienced. 

“I’ve noticed.”

Gwaine could see the cane lying on a shelf behind Uther’s desk, tantalising him. There were shutters on the windows. Those hooks in the ceiling…

God, Arthur’s father, how hot and wrong would that be? 

The cane suddenly smashed down on the desk in front of him, and Gwaine nearly jumped out of his skin. That man could hit hard, like he meant it. 

“Listen when I’m speaking to you!”

Gwaine swallowed, feeling himself harden. 

“Are you listening now?”

Gwaine nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Good. Clarity. Clarity and discipline, two things you’re sorely lacking.” The cane struck the desk again. Gwaine’s vision blurred just a little at the thought of that thing striking him instead. He leaned forward, trying to steady his breathing.

“That’s what I need,” he said earnestly. 

Uther said nothing, probably wary of a trap. But Gwaine knew he wasn’t the only one looking for satisfaction that no so-called normal person would provide.

“People don’t like when I ask for something they think’s wrong.”

“Like what?” Uther was still impassive. 

“This.” Gwaine reached out and stroked the cane lovingly. “It’s a thing of beauty.”

“Indeed.”

“I’d love to feel what it can do.”

“What else?”

Gwaine could see Uther’s eyes starting to darken with lust. Interested then. “Someone who’d take me… maybe tie me over that desk…use this…” he smacked his hand with the cane, never taking his eyes from Uther’s. “ _Discipline_ me. Then, when I’m hurting really good, fuck me hard. I’d feel it for days after.”

“Tame,” Uther commented. Too coldly. Gwaine could see the interest there.

“Teach me then. Please… I’ll do anything.”

Uther gazed at him for a moment, then walked towards the door. Gwaine’s heart sank, until a bolt slid across, the shutters closed, a drawer opened. 

“Undress.” Uther handed a bottle of lube over. “Prepare yourself, I won’t be gentle.” 

He watched uninterestedly as Gwaine did as he was bid. “Now, bend over the desk.” 

Gwaine rubbed himself against the desk, trying to get some friction. 

“Come on my desk and you’ll suffer,” Uther warned. 

“Do it,” Gwaine urged. 

Uther grabbed hold of Gwaine’s hair and tugged his head back painfully. “ _Never_ tell me what to do.”

Gwaine moaned at the command. Uther had the cane out, stroking it over Gwaine’s buttocks. Suddenly, there was a whack, and an exquisite stinging across his backside. Once, twice and then a pause. He could feel a gloved hand caress his balls, then a hard smack, stinging right down his crack. 

Gwaine groaned at the pain, thrust desperately, and came hard over the antique walnut. 

There was a long silence.

“Well,” Uther sighed, opening another drawer. “I did warn you…”

* * *

**40.**

Well. This was quite unexpected. Gwaine was fully expecting his first job as cupid to be difficult. He’d come prepared to spend a good week or two in Camelot in order to make the two to fall in love.

But, as he watched the wizard—Merlin—lower himself on the royal cock, he realised that his job had already been done for him. He wondered if he had been accidentally sent to the wrong couple, because Merlin and Arthur were quite obviously already in love.

Gwaine decided to stay and watch for some more time, just to make sure. He just wanted to make sure that they definitely didn’t his help, and then he’d go back. He had planned on staying a week after all. His decision to stay was definitely not influenced by the fact that this was one of the hottest things he’d ever laid his eyes on. Not at all. He was a professional cupid now.

Merlin’s head was tilted to the right, his eyes impossibly blue as Arthur bit and sucked at his neck. Gwaine licked his lips, imagining the taste of Merlin’s skin. And—and then he frowned. Merlin was looking right at him. Gwaine moved a few inches to his right. Merlin’s eyes followed him.

Gwaine narrowed his eyes at Merlin, who blinked a few times, and then his eyes pointedly darted down to the tent in the flimsy cloth that he wore around his waist. Gwaine flushed, just slightly at the ravenous look in Merlin’s eyes. He was a cupid and engaging with humans—sexually or not—was greatly frowned upon. But, Gwaine tried to reason with himself, Merlin was sitting right there on Arthur’s cock and making such delicious noises… it really wasn’t Gwaine’s fault that his cock had taken interest. Not his fault at all.

“Can you see me?” Gwaine asked. Mortals weren’t supposed to see him, but he supposed Merlin wasn’t exactly a mortal. Merlin just gave a slight nod, his lips parting as Arthur started thrusting up to meet his downward thrusts. Gwaine’s cock twitched and he gave in to the urge and dropped back into a chair. He leaned back and parted his thighs, thoroughly enjoying the way Merlin’s eyes darted to the place between his legs and stayed there.

Gwaine made a show of grabbing his cock through the bright red fabric and moaned. He watched, smug, as Merlin’s lips parted on a breath, and he licked his lips. God, Gwaine wanted those lips on him. He slid his hand under the cloth and curled a tight fist around himself. He smiled lazily, imagined those plump lips on his cock as he fucked his fist.

Merlin watched for a few seconds, breathless, and then Merlin reached back and brought Arthur’s hand up to his lips, his eyes not leaving Gwaine’s, and took two fingers in his mouth, wrapped his lips around them and sucked hard, and that obscene sight was quite enough to make him come.

*

Later, he watched them both snuggle close to each other on the bed, and wondered why they’d thought to send a cupid for these two. These two obviously didn’t need one.

* * *

**41.**

_Three Kisses_

Arthur tumbles Merlin to the ground with a clatter of borrowed weaponry and the crunch of late autumn leaves. Before Merlin can recover, he tumbles himself atop Merlin, breathless with laughter. 

"You really are hopeless," Arthur says, but his words are neither sharp nor cruel. "Maybe the sword isn't your weapon."

"I can defend myself, you know." Merlin tries to wriggle free, then stills and raises his head to let Arthur draw his helmet off. "Just not with sharp, pointy things." 

"Hm. I guess a dagger is out of the question, then." Arthur inches his body up Merlin's, so their noses touch, and he smiles. "What about a mace? A flail?" 

"Arthur, no!" Merlin laughs when Arthur leans away to reach for another of his weapons. He tugs Arthur back, glad to feel Arthur's breath come hot and short against his neck, and for the snug press of Arthur's leg between his own. 

Arthur makes a small, soft 'oh' sound, and turns to brush his nose over Merlin's again. He touches his lips to Merlin, so lightly it's barely even a touch, and then leans in to do it once more. When they kiss, it's a murmur of lips against each other, and Arthur sighs when Merlin leans up closer to him to deepen in. 

Merlin reaches up to touch Arthur's hair; he frowns when Arthur has to pull away when distant voices break the quiet of crisp, chilly morning. 

"Not yet," Arthur says, "but soon, I promise." 

*

Merlin hovers at the edge of the court after the king dies. Arthur's coronation must follow quickly upon Uther's funeral, lest either Arthur or his kingdom appear vulnerable. Control is concentrated at the center of the court; control and power, and Merlin has access to both only through Arthur. 

Yet, here at the edge of the throne room, in the alcoves and cloisters, is where control, power, and certainty begin to fray. Whispered doubts among courtiers, and the worry that breeds alongside fear. 

Though he cannot save Arthur from any of this, Merlin is determined to protect him from the worst of it, at least until his grief settles. 

He walks Arthur from the throne room to the royal apartments, silent and attentive, and when Arthur withdraws into his private rooms, Merlin does, too. Arthur stays silent, however, even after he's changed into his evening clothes and has had dinner set before him. Wine only seems to make him more despondent, and his eyes look dull with sadness. 

"Everything will change," Arthur says. He touches Merlin's hand, pulls him down to sit next to him before the fire. 

"Not everything." Merlin keeps Arthur's hand in his own, held tight between both palms. 

"Can you promise me that?"

Arthur's eyes gleam with sudden need. He doesn't wait for Merlin to answer, but frees his hand to cup Merlin's cheek, to pull him closer until their foreheads rest against each other. "Can you? Will you promise me?"

"I will. I give you my word." 

If Arthur wants promises with his kisses, then Merlin will promise him the world, he will promise Arthur all that man and magic can accomplish to keep his king safe. He parts his lips as Arthur kisses him, and returns the kisses with such gentle precision that it is not long before Arthur is arching into them. 

Merlin breaks away, and the need that brightened Arthur's eyes has become sharp, urgent. He mutters half-broken pleas against Merlin's neck, asks Merlin to touch him, begs Merlin to keep touching him, to put his hands over his arms and chest and to press slow and steady against his hardness. 

They sleep curled up around each other in the center of the king' bed, buried beneath blankets and the breathless vows they make against each other's skin.

*

Merlin touches the tips of his fingers to Arthur's eyelids and to his mouth, keeps his touch tender, remembers how he used to touch Arthur while he slept so at not to wake him. 

"Promise me," he says as he rests his hand on Arthur's forehead, "promise me that I will not have to wait longer than I can bear. Promise me you'll come home," he says. 

There is no reply, and Arthur's lips are cool and still beneath his own, but in his heart Merlin can hear Arthur's wordless promise to return to him.

* * *

**42.**

It's been said, according to the castle gossips, that the prince is, to put it delicately, well-endowed.

Nothing concrete, no actual accounts, just the smirk of the chambermaiden who walked into his quarters early one morning.

The tailor only rolls his eyes and hurries away when asked.

Merlin, of course, is a complete dead end.

\---

"Why does everyone keep asking me about Arthur's dick?" Merlin hisses to Gwen one summer morning. "Really?!"

Gwen shoots him a look. "No one's seen it, you see. Not his former footman, no scullery maids, no one."

Merlin blinks hard at her. "Are the winters that long here?"

Gwen shakes her head. "You've never noticed the bulge? The way he walks after a bawdy song? You've really never seen it?"

"No," Merlin says firmly. "Why would I have seen it?" 

Gwen just shakes her head at him.

\---

Arthur is secretive about his cock. He only changed behind a screen, always wore a towel, and went far into the woods to piss on their camping trips.

He's shy. Merlin just can't figure out _why_.

He thinks about what Arthur could be concealing, at night mostly, his door locked.

But less so when he's with Arthur, especially during their nightly talks on Arthur's bed. There he's more interested in the way the candlelight plays across Arthur's collarbones under his loose collar.

One balmy night, Arthur kisses him, almost gently. Merlin can't help but push forward, squeezing Arthur's thigh and kissing him harder. Arthur moans as his jerking hips send him grinding into Merlin, so Merlin doesn't understand why he pulls away so fast when he goes for Arthur's breeches.

Arthur is panting, red. "I'm- Sorry. It's just- I'm-"

"Shy?"

Arthur closes his eyes. "No," he says. "I was born of magic. Things are... different. For me."

Merlin frowns. "Different?" he starts, but Arthur simply undoes his breeches and pulls out two cocks. Two.

Arthur has two dicks. Fuck.

Turns out Arthur has a great reason for being shy. He has two dicks. And Merlin wants to touch them. 

\---

Arthur doesn't let him. He kicks Merlin out instead, sending him to wander the corridors, bewildered.

Merlin returns the next day, determined to apologize, but he stops short before he can.

Arthur's in bed, knees splayed under the sheets, clearly jerking off beneath them.

Merlin starts to leave, but Arthur's eyes meet his and he takes a breath.

"Can I watch?" It comes out hurried, but Arthur rolls his eyes and nods, kicking at the sheets to reveal him jerking his right cock with a loose fist.

Merlin sits down gingerly at the end of Arthur's bed, getting a full view of Arthur's multi-cocked glory.

They're both rather short, and red with Arthur's arousal, of course, but there's _two_ of them, veiny and a bit wrinkled. As Merlin's watching, both of them simultaneously blurt out drops of pre-come.

Merlin sucks in a breath, eyes darting up. Arthur is watching him.

"Does it feel good when you do both of them?"

Arthur licks his lips. "Yes."

"Do you want a-"

"Yes." 

It's silky under Merlin's palm, and he stops to thumb at Arthur's foreskin before setting a pace to match Arthur's hand.

Arthur groans. He's panting when Merlin looks up and Merlin has to kiss him, soft, but Arthur pulls him closer, moans as Merlin flicks his wrist.

Their fingers bump together as they speed up and Merlin can't help rutting at Arthur's hip, whimpering.

Arthur shushes him, then his free hand is working at Merlin's laces before pulling Merlin's cock free. Merlin's confused, but Arthur pulls him on top, so he's straddling him, then- oh god- lines their cocks up together.

Merlin's cock is nestled between Arthur's, then Arthur wraps his hand around them, and Merlin can't bite back his frantic whine. His hand joins Arthur's, and between the two of them they can start stroking. The drag of skin is tortuously good. Merlin can't help the little thrusts forward, pressing their balls together, dick sliding in the pre-come.

Shudders rack his body as he comes over Arthur's stomach, face tilted down to watch as Arthur finishes himself.

The right dick jerks first, and Arthur groans as come shoots out of both cocks, mixing with Merlin's mess.

It's amazing and Merlin has to kiss Arthur to keep the silly grin off his face. Arthur kisses him back, but is frowning when he pulls away.

"Father said I was an abomination, a freak of magic."

Merlin shakes his head, smiling. "You're perfect."

* * *

**43.**

Percy glanced at the calendar. “Your birthday is coming up,” he announced, “Is there anything you’d like in particular?”

“A sugar daddy,” Mordred replied. His attention was invested in washing the last of the mugs; he always had the unpleasant feeling that his hand would either get stuck or shatter the material with his knuckles. Percy didn’t quip back. Mordred turned his head to the side where Percy was leaning against the counter, looking at him over the rim of his mug. “I’m joking, of course.” Mordred laughed. “You spoil me enough as it is.”

“Sure I do,” Percy hummed. He bowed down to leave a kiss on Mordred’s cheek and his mug in the sink.

* * *

“Leon! Percy didn’t tell me you were coming over.” Mordred’s voice rose enough to form a question by the end but somehow he failed to look at his husband. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Leon; yet he didn’t know where to look. His brain registered slivers of information (tight shirt, rolled sleeves, deep neck, long jeans, barefoot), but the awareness that he was staring forced him to finally meet Leon’s eyes.

“Happy birthday, Mordred.” Leon smiled. He didn’t seem at all perturbed at the scrutiny he had just undergone. Then again, everyone agreed Leon’s smile was impossible to resist; people mass-admitted to plain wanting to cuddle him and recharge on positivity. He was used to it?

He pushed his chair back and turned his body towards Mordred, swinging one leg further from the other, opening his lap. He patted his thigh and his smile got a little wider, and his eyes twinkled. “Come and let me take a look at you.”

Mordred shot a glance at Percy, but all he got from his husband was a supportive hand gesture towards Leon’s lap. Percy looked… Well, if Mordred didn’t know him better he’d think he looked excited.

Painfully aware of how his baggy clothes swayed around his limbs, Mordred crossed the kitchen and gingerly raised himself on his toes to place his ass in Leon’s lap. Leon took a firm grip of him and pulled him up and into a comfortable position; every touch and stroke of his hands left a trail on Mordred’s skin even through the sweater and track pants.

“Percy tells me you’ve behaved?” Leon murmured in Mordred’s ear. His lips brushed against Mordred’s earlobe, and the hairs of his moustache prickled the skin. Mordred shuddered, but it was a pleasant feeling; he wished Leon would continue whispering. He rocked his pelvis to the sides, making himself comfortable onto the other man.

“Yes.” A silence stretched. Mordred turned his head – there was something familiar about this – and looked Leon in the eyes. “Yes… daddy,” he murmured, and put his hands around Leon’s neck.

Leon nuzzled his face In Mordred’s exposed neck; Mordred could feel his smile. “Good,” Leon murmured against his skin, his breath warming the skin and sending a small wave of warmth all over Mordred. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“Yes, daddy, I’ve been _very_ good,” Mordred repeated, this time more confident. He stretched his leg and pressed a toe against the floor to lift his pelvis, just enough to shift and rub his ass against Leon’s cock. It hardened immediately, and pressed into the cleft of Mordred’s ass even through the thick material of the jeans. The pressure sent slow, lazy waves of arousal through Mordred’s body. He became hyperaware of his own skin, of the placed he wanted to be touched and kissed. His cock throbbed and rose; the tip brushed against his underwear and made him groan.

Leon chuckled against Mordred’s neck. “Percy. Come and suck your hubby’s cock?” he offered.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Percy laughed. He went around the table and knelt before them. He hooked his fingers into Mordred’s pants and, with a little help from Leon, slid them off Mordred’s legs. And then he wrapped his pretty lips around Mordred’s cock and his mouth, his _hot wet tight slippery_ mouth sucked, and Mordred could only writhe and moan. He slid a palm down the side of Leon’s neck and pressed it against his bare chest, the coarse hairs a nice little change from Percy’s otherwise hairless chest.

“Fuck me,” Mordred muttered, and thrust his hips against Percy’s face.

“Since you ask so nicely,” Leon laughed, and bit Mordred’s earlobe.

* * *


	8. Group D (No Warnings)

**44**

Arthur is used to the strange minutia of having his court sorcerer for a consort. He takes it in stride when Merlin one day declares, "I have a crop fertility rite I want to try; find me three rabbit skulls and some mood lighting."

[](http://imgur.com/q7UEjVl)

* * *

**45**

**Title:** Two is Company, (But) Three’s a Crowd

Something tells me Geoffrey of Monmouth “accidentally” left this page out of his “The History of the Kings of Britain” manuscript.

[](http://imgur.com/6cZw2z1)

* * *

**46**

Where Merlin teaches Arthur the importance (and pleasure) of Mathematics. Or basically 2x3=6 and 3x3=9.

[](http://imgur.com/CeD4FjT)

* * *

**47**

Meanwhile, sometime in the 3rd Century, Flavius Artorius Draconicus seduces his pretty new slaveboy from Britannia

[](http://imgur.com/5oZuAS9)

* * *

**48**

"Hmm, which one should we use today...?"

[](http://imgur.com/jeCmKST)

* * *

**49**

In which Merlin comes up with a spell that has Arthur accepting magic a lot sooner! ;)

[](http://imgur.com/HYIu3v7)


End file.
